Magic and Misrule (Mishap's Heroes Book 1)

by KM Merritt

  Vola shook her head, reminding herself she wasn’t a fourteen-year-old girl anymore.

  Across the street, she caught sight of Braydon. He wore full plate armor. Nothing too fancy, but a great deal more impressive than Vola’s chain mail. Beside him stood the competent looking woman with the hand axes and the dark man with the bow, both of whom sported new leather armor. The wizard trailing behind them still wore the same robes, but he carried a pristine book in his hands, caressing its pages.

  Then Braydon shifted to the side, and Vola recognized the squirrely little man with buck teeth he was talking to. He looked out of place here without Knight Commander Imralen’s shadow to stand it.

  The Paladin Council must have sent him to check up on her progress. This day was just getting worse and worse.

  Braydon caught sight of Vola, standing in the dusty street with an armful of eclectic camping gear, and raised his chin with a smirk. He gave her a jaunty little wave then gave his party the signal to head out. They moved toward the edge of town while the squirrely man straightened his notes.

  Vola groaned. “We have to get moving.”

  Between the shop and the Tea and Tap Room stood the orphanage where Vola had picked up the stuffed rabbit. She tried not to feel like the boarded windows were judging her.

  Sorrel paused and stared up at it.

  “It’s empty,” Vola said quietly. “No one left. They were all kidnapped. The only one in there is the golem of the caretaker.”

  “Creepy,” Sorrel said.

  “You mentioned illusions,” Lillie said, staring at the cracked paint and sagging stoop.

  “Yeah,” Sorrel said. “The missing townspeople were replaced with illusions.”

  “Is this one still active?”

  “I guess so,” Vola said. “Unless someone messed with it after I was in there.”

  “Here,” Lillie said, dumping her load into Sorrel’s arms. “I’ll be right back.”

  “We don’t have time—”

  “It won’t take long. I need to see the spell if I’m going to be able to identify it again.”

  Since that was exactly why she’d wanted to bring a spell caster in the first place, Vola couldn’t exactly argue. She glanced over her shoulder, but the man Braydon had been talking to still stood on the corner. “All right, but hurry.”

  Lillie disappeared into the empty building.

  In the corner of the overgrown lot stood a little altar to one of the Lesser Virtues. It didn’t even have a statue. Just a fish knife nailed above the flattish offering bowl. A couple of boys knelt beside it, giggling as they chalked rude words on the side.

  “Hey,” Vola said and dumped the equipment in the road. “Stop that.”

  She didn’t even have to growl. She stepped forward, and the boys shrieked and ran away, knocking the bowl from its stand with a clang.

  Vola knelt and picked it up. She cast a surreptitious look down the street before she shined it with her sleeve and placed it carefully back on the pedestal.

  Sorrel stepped up and rubbed at the graffiti. “Why is there an altar to the goddess of vengeful housewives outside an orphanage?”

  “She has a soft spot for widows and orphans.” Vola ducked her head. “Or so I’ve heard. She takes care of the ones no one else does.”

  “Are we praying?” Lillie asked from behind the fence.

  Vola jumped.

  “That was fast,” Sorrel said.

  “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

  “Did you learn anything?” Vola stood and brushed off her knees.

  “I know what the spell looks like. Which means I might be able to pick it apart next time.”

  Lillie held a book under her arm. A different one from the one that hung from her hip.

  “What’s that?” Vola said.

  “Oh.” Lillie flushed and glanced at the cover. “Botany. I found it inside in the schoolroom. I thought it would be a good idea if we could identify that flower the shopkeeper wanted.”

  Prescient of her. Vola wished she’d thought of it first.

  Someone cleared their throat and then coughed like they’d choked on their own phlegm. Vola glared at the man across the street. He grinned, revealing a set of teeth that would look better on a gopher, and pushed a pair of spotted spectacles up his nose.

  She’d only seen one man wipe that smarmy grin off the representative’s face and that had been Henri the day he’d told the council he would be training Vola despite their protests.

  “Who is that?” Lillie asked as the man set his pencil to his paper and started taking notes.

  Vola blew out her breath. “A representative from the Paladin Council,” she said. “He’s…keeping an eye on me while I earn my shield.”

  “Oh, would you like to say hello?” Lillie raised her hand, but Vola dragged it down.

  “No. No, I just want to get on with it.” She scanned the street, looking for the flash of silver-gray hair and was rewarded when she saw Henri playing with a group of kids two buildings down. He wore his old, battered shield across his back even in the hot sun, and still managed to dance around, kicking a ball back and forth. The kids squealed with glee as he slipped his toe under the ball, flipped it into the air, and kept it in the air with his feet.

  Vola whistled.

  Henri caught the ball one-handed and glanced her way. He gave a brief nod, tossed the ball to the tallest kid, ruffled his hair, and then trotted over to Vola and the party.

  “Did you see him?” Vola asked quietly.

  Henri didn’t even glance at the representative. “I did. I’m not worried.”

  “Henri—”

  “All he can do is watch. He can’t interfere. Which means you have everything under control.”

  Vola didn’t feel under control. She felt like this whole thing could unravel at any moment, leaving her standing on nothing. If Braydon came back with the townspeople before her…

  “Right, sure,” she said. Then she raised her voice enough to include the others. “Henri, this is Sorrel and Lillie. Lillie, Sorrel, this is Henri.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Henri,” Lillie said.

  Henri doffed his round helm like it was feathered cap. “Ladies.”

  “Could you get this packed away?” Vola asked, nudging the tent still lying in the road. “We’re leaving as soon as I’m done talking to Becky.”

  The mistress of the Tea and Tap Room was waiting for them just inside with a sack. “I tried to pack things that would keep,” she said. “Even in the damp of the swamp. Bread, meat, cheese, that sort of thing. It’s everything I could spare. I hope it lasts for however long it takes you to find them.”

  “Thanks, Becky,” Sorrel said with a broad grin.

  “Yes, thank you,” Vola said.

  “Where will you start?” Becky asked.

  Vola hesitated. “Uh.”

  Lillie cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should start by asking questions. The local lord might know more.”

  Vola made a face. She’d noticed the manor on the hill when they’d first rode in but she hadn’t thought about it since. “I’m not sure lords really know what’s going on in their towns, usually. Aren’t they busy being all, I don’t know…noble?”

  Lillie’s mouth dropped open in affront but it was Becky who answered. “Actually, Lord Arthorel isn’t that bad as far as nobles go. He leaves us to our own devices, mostly. But he keeps the roads free of bandits and highwaymen.”

  “I did notice that on the way in,” Vola said, reluctantly.

  “As your liege lord, he should be doing far more than that,” Lillie said. “He should not be ignoring you.”

  Becky shrugged. “That’s the way of the world, Miss Lillie.”

  “Well it shouldn’t be,” Lillie grumbled.

  Sorrel flicked a glance between Lillie and Vola. “We could at least ask if he’s noticed anything suspicious while he takes care of all those bandits,” she said. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll want to make it offic
ial and hire us to solve the problem.”

  That made Vola brighten considerably. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.” She’d wanted to set off right away and try catching up to Braydon and his party, and she definitely didn’t like the idea of leaving the council’s representative here to poke about asking questions. But if they didn’t have a firm direction, they’d just end up stumbling around the swamp blind. That wouldn’t get them any closer to finding the townsfolk or the orphans.

  Did Braydon have some kind of direction already?

  Sorrel grinned and held the door open. “Yes. Let’s get this show on the road.” She thrust her fist in the air. “As Jodin Battlecalled always said, ‘Let our blood be strong and their asses whomped.’”

  Lillie tilted her head. “Is that a direct quotation?” She seemed to be genuinely asking.

  Sorrel’s grin turned sheepish. “Well, maybe a paraphrase,” she said. “But the sentiment is the same. Let’s go kick some kidnapper booty.”

  “Hurrah?” Lillie added half-heartedly before she tripped over the edge of a paving stone and hit the ground palms first.

  Seven

  Vola led her motley party up the hill, carrying their tent and all its pieces in a bulky pack. Henri had found a farmer to take the nag, and Vola didn’t ask any questions, just waved goodbye to the poor creature. The gelding was enjoying life in Becky’s stable since Henri had said a swamp was no place for a horse. More likely it was because Henri felt bad riding when everyone else was walking.

  Vola wished they’d brought it just as a pack animal. Their one and only pack outweighed Sorrel by at least fifteen pounds, and the first time Lillie had tried to carry it, she’d fallen on her face outside the Tea and Tap Room. And there was no way Vola was asking Henri for help. She was supposed to be earning her shield, not wrestling with the gear.

  And Henri wasn’t really there to be helping. He was there to observe and judge her progress, and really he was the only one Vola trusted to do so fairly.

  The idea hung unspoken between them that he was also her safety net, there to catch her if she really screwed up.

  Not that she was planning on it. She’d die of mortification on the spot and Henri would have to bury her remains in the swamp.

  Sorrel followed Vola, swinging her quarterstaff in a complicated pattern, and Lillie came after, her nose in the botany book. Occasionally, the spell caster tripped and righted herself without even looking up from the page. Henri brought up the rear, reaching out now and then to keep Lillie on the road.

  Scraggly trees lined their path, and about halfway up the hill toward the manor, Vola stopped. Something rustled in the scant undergrowth, sending a prickle down her neck.

  She held up her hand, but Sorrel clearly wasn’t watching or didn’t understand the sign for “stop.” The halfling ran into the backs of her legs, and Lillie crowded into them both a moment later.

  “What—”

  “Shh,” Vola said.

  “Ouch.” Sorrel rubbed the back of her heels which Lillie had stepped on.

  “I heard someth—”

  A long, slithery, scaly body burst from the undergrowth and hissed. Vola had just enough time to register rows of slick, sharp teeth and short legs tipped with claws before the thing sprang at them.

  She yanked her sword from its sheath and brought it up to block.

  But the creature slammed to a stop just short of swallowing Vola and slid back a foot. A big, black wolf had its jaws clamped around the scaly tail, and it hauled the thing backwards.

  Vines shot out of the ground and wrapped the creature while it thrashed, pinning it to the road.

  Vola raised her sword, but before she could lunge, an arrow sprouted from the monster’s eye. It jerked once, twice, and then lay still.

  Vola stared at the long, scaly corpse, sword still raised. Lillie and Sorrel crowded around her to see. Henri hadn’t even moved.

  “What the heck just happened?” Sorrel said.

  The wolf spat out the creature’s tail and trotted over to the tree line where a cloaked figure slung a bow onto their back. They waved a gloved hand and the vines snapped away from the long corpse, getting sucked back underground.

  The figure stood a good four inches taller than Lillie, who was fairly short for a half-elf, and the deep hood hid the figure’s face along with any other identifying features. So much so that Vola couldn’t even be sure if she was looking at a man or a woman.

  “Thanks,” Vola called.

  The figure didn’t move, but Vola got the impression all their attention was fixed on her now.

  “Are you the ones going after the missing people from town?” The voice emanated from the hood, low and grating as if unused for decades.

  Vola glanced at the others, but they didn’t seem inclined to speak up. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s us.” She sheathed her sword and took a couple steps closer to the figure so she didn’t have to shout.

  Their rescuer flinched, and Vola stopped moving. She got some mixed messages from the pair: menace from the wolf, competence from the hooded figure, but also a level of uncertainty and discomfort in the way they both held themselves.

  Vola didn’t try to press closer.

  “What’s your name?” Vola said. She couldn’t keep thinking of them as “the figure.”

  There was a hesitation. “Claw,” the figure said, in a growl Vola would have expected from the wolf.

  The three women looked at each other.

  “Claw,” Sorrel said. “You sure you want to go with that?”

  The hood shifted, and Vola got the impression the…person’s eyes moved between them uncertainly. Not that she could actually see eyes in the deep shadow of the hood.

  “Talon?” the voice said again, a plaintive note threading their voice.

  “Talon is better,” Lillie said, looking at Sorrel and Vola for confirmation. “Talon is a lovely name. Very fierce.”

  “You’re a fighter?” Vola said.

  Talon grunted what Vola assumed to be an affirmative.

  “Ranger, I’m assuming.” She jerked her head at the longbow slung across their back and the wolf.

  “The blood of my enemies speaks for itself,” Talon grated out, jerking their chin at the dead monster.

  “Er,” Vola said.

  “Well, not really,” Sorrel said.

  “What?” Talon said.

  “Well, I mean it’s dead. Can’t really speak, can it? No tongue.” She touched the tip of her own tongue thoughtfully. “And I feel like blood isn’t particularly articulate most of the time.”

  “Sometimes it can be very articulate,” Lillie said diplomatically.

  “And that’s not really the point,” Vola said with a pointed look at Sorrel.

  “You are looking for fighters?” Talon said. “I will come.”

  There was no doubting the ranger’s competence. Vola liked to think she would have done just fine herself, but the reality was, Talon had killed the giant crocodile faster.

  “Why do you want to help? We…can’t really pay anyone, yet.” Vola held out her hands and glanced at Lillie. “Though we are working on it.”

  “You look for missing family,” Talon said. “I know what it’s like to lose people and never find them. If I can stop it from happening to others, I will.”

  Vola glanced backward, and when no one immediately objected, she gave Talon a smile. “Welcome aboard. We’re on our way to ask the local lord some questions.”

  As melodramatic as the hood was, Talon seemed like they’d round out the party nicely. Two fighters, a spell caster, and a ranger. So long as everyone could actually do what they said they could do, they might have a chance at this.

  And it really didn’t matter if Vola couldn’t figure out whether Talon was a he or a she. The voice seemed male but there was something about the mixed air of menace and uncertainty that felt young and female. Nothing that Vola could put her finger on, just a feeling.

  “And what’s the name of the wolf
?” Vola asked, glancing down at the rugged animal panting behind Talon’s legs. Although now she wasn’t quite sure she should bother with names. It had sounded like Talon had made theirs up on the spot.

  Talon made a noise somewhere between a growl and a bark. Their tone was much firmer this time and Vola blinked.

  “Uh, say that again,” Sorrel said.

  Talon repeated it. The wolf’s ears pricked forward. The two wild animals looked at each other, then slid away from the crocodile’s corpse and up the hill.

  Sorrel planted her hands on her hips and then shrugged. “I’m going with Gruff.”

  “What?” Lillie said, her perfect golden brows arched in question.

  “For the wolf.” Sorrel waved her hands in the air for emphasis. “You know, ‘grrr-ruff.’”

  Vola rolled her eyes and started after Talon. Lillie lurched to follow.

  Sorrel scrambled after them. “Get it?” she said. “Did you get it? Grr-ruff.”

  “Yes,” Lillie said. “We all did. We just didn’t think it was funny.”

  Talon waited at the point where the road widened and the manor rose, looking back at them.

  When Vola glanced back, Henri was hiding a smile. She rubbed her forehead and sent up a short prayer to her goddess that she’d be good enough to keep an overenthusiastic pummeler, a klutzy spell caster, and a monosyllabic mystery all in one piece.

  Eight

  The road snaked up the low hill, leading directly to the wide wrought-iron gate set in a thick wall. Vola’s eyebrows went up. It must have cost a fortune to haul all that cut stone through the swamp. Either that or there was a quarry hidden somewhere in the wetlands, which she doubted.

  As they approached the gate, Sorrel spun her staff, then secured it to her back again, the majority of it sticking up over her head to keep it from dragging in the dirt. Lillie put her book away and stared about with interest.