Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

“She attacked me!” he said. “Of course, I dropped the maniac!”

  “Pardon me for being surprised when I wake up and find a strange man is carrying me,” she said, pushing her brother off and, in spite of being wobbly on her feet, taking a step toward him. “What do you mean by it, putting your hands on me?”

  “I…” He turned to Alastar with a look that said deal with her.

  “You were part of this?” she asked, spinning on her brother. “For all you know, he could’ve been sneaking feels and—”

  “Hold on right there.” The warlock laughed. “With the number of women waiting for me to ‘sneak feels’ on them, I can assure you that was not about to happen here with you.”

  “I’m not good enough for you now?”

  The warlock stared at her with his jaw hanging open, then shook off his confusion. “You’re not a bad looking lass, aye, but—”

  “You see!” She spun on her brother. “Lecherous!”

  Alastar was just staring at both of them with wide eyes. Now that the attention was on him, he didn’t know what to do with it. He held his hands up and nodded, then said, “Everyone, calm down. Rhona, if we’d stayed back there after what you did, we’d be dead right now, I imagine. Or at least, you would be. Donnon here helped, because I couldn’t carry you the whole way. Believe me, I tried for as long as my body would let me.”

  “But you could’ve just healed me,” she argued. “I mean, you could have just prayed to Saint Rodrick and received his blessing, right?”

  He shook his head. “I seem to be… distracted.” He cast a sideways glance at Donnon, and Rhona had the feeling she was missing something.

  A thought struck her and filled her heart with dread. She had hoped the images in her head were simply a dream—images of dark shadows and more. She knew the answer before she asked the question, and almost didn’t want a response.

  “Why…? You said I would likely be dead. Me specifically… Why?”

  Donnon laughed. “Because you’re with me and mine now, missy.”

  She glared at him, but the anger turned to fear as she looked at her brother. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  He nodded, slowly, his eyes unable to meet hers.

  “I didn’t want you to see… any of you.” She held her hand to her mouth to stem a flow of emotion she felt welling up. “It wasn’t intentional; you have to believe me.”

  “If you hadn’t acted, we might all be dead,” Alastar admitted as he stepped forward and took her in an embrace. “You’re my sister; that’ll never change.”

  She lay her cheek on the hard armor of his shoulder, then lifted the edge of his dirtied gold cloak to wipe at her moist eyes.

  “We have to keep moving, though.” He gave her a squeeze and then turned to look in the direction they were going. “Donnon, you said sunrise. I see no sign of a village or any life ahead.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he said with a cocky smile. “If we were so easy to find, this war your kind has waged on us wouldn’t last very long, would it?”

  “True. We would’ve wiped you out long ago.”

  “Wrong. You would’ve attacked more openly, sure, but that would’ve just pushed us to your level.” Donnon scoffed. “You, wipe us out? Give me a damn break.”

  “Sir, there is a lady present.” Alastar gestured to Rhona.

  “Don’t give me that cow shite,” she said, to his surprise. “You think I’m so precious, well, guess what? I’ve sheltered you, not the other way around. You’re a holy paladin, but guess what? I’m not.”

  Alastar looked between the two, shook his head and started walking. “Both of you then, watch your mouths.”

  She watched him for a moment, then realized the warlock was smirking at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she commanded, and then walked off after her brother. Her head was aching, and if she had to be realistic with herself, she was only being a pain because she was scared. Her mother had always pointed out that this was a defense mechanism of hers, though at the time, Rhona had no idea what that meant. Now, she was catching on fast.

  Donnon caught up to her and said, “I apologize.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, simply whatever has angered you.” He motioned to Alastar. “He did just abandon his paladin order to protect you, though. Not that it’s any of my damn business.”

  “It really isn’t.” She kept walking, doing her best not to focus on the spinning sensation or her dry throat. “Since I was out… where are we going?”

  “We were looking for a healer for you, but since you’re up... I imagine your brother’s still going along because he has nowhere else to go.”

  “If I just went back to Sir Gildon, explained what happened, maybe this would all be over.”

  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “You realize this Sir Gildon fellow might be dead, right? That and, even if he isn’t, wasn’t he one of the main persecutors of magic users?”

  “Your point?”

  “If you want to commit suicide, find a less painful way.”

  “I’m not following.”

  He shook his head. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, and the longer you deny your use of magic, the more annoying it’s going to be to me. I don’t like being annoyed.”

  She laughed. “How do you live with yourself?”

  “Ha.” He glared. “Point is, you used magic, but your brother and his entire order are convinced magic is evil. It might be on you to show them otherwise.”

  “Except that magic is evil.”

  “So then, are you.”

  She scrunched her nose at that. “No, I’ve heard of this happening to people. Dark forces have their grip on me, aye, but we can beat them, cast them out.”

  “You have a lot to learn about this new world, lass.”

  “And a lot to teach you about shutting up, so I can enjoy this walk without you making my headache worse than it already is.”

  He reached into his rabbit-skin pouch that hung in front of his kilt, and pulled out some leaves. “Break those, breathe it in. It won’t heal you like one of your brother’s supposed blessings can, but it’ll help.”

  She did so as her brother stopped ahead to look back.

  “The Holy Saint blesses those in need, and at his own time.” His eyes lit up like he dared the warlock to challenge him.

  Donnon just shook his head and continued walking right past him. At the peak of a rolling hill, he stopped and pointed to the rocky cliffs in the distance, part of a ridge that carried on for some ways, out into the mist beyond.

  “There,” he said. “At the base of the cliffs is where they’ll be.”

  A break in the clouds let in rays of sunshine, scattered across the ground between their location and their destination. They pushed on, crossing fields of tall, overgrown grass, pausing at a stream to take their fill of the crisp, clean water, and went on.

  By the time they could see the thatched roof huts, the sun had crested the hills to the east and was starting to beat off the clouds and fog.

  “What’s our plan here?” Rhona asked as they approached, walking between Donnon and Alastar.

  “The plan is to hope that they don’t kill you,” Donnon replied, “while I seek out the healer I came for. We go our separate ways and hope to never see each other again.”

  Rhona looked at his weather-hardened features, the thick beard, and wavy black hair that fell in curly locks.

  It wasn’t that she would miss him. By the Saint, no. She had just met him, and he was brash, unrefined. But he knew her secret and had helped carry her to safety. There was something about the whole situation that made her sad to hear that this would be the end of it.

  Or maybe it was that she had never actually known a clansman. She had to admit, she had always been curious and not just whether they wore anything under their kilts, as her brother would often joke. She couldn’t give a damn about that—she was curious about them as a people.

  “Is it true,”
she asked, “that not all members of a clan know magic?”

  He shared a frown of confusion with Alastar, who shrugged.

  “Aye. Only a few, in most clans anyway,” Donnon replied. “I’ve heard rumors of clans formed entirely of magic users, but believe that to be in defense after attacks from the paladins, or leftovers from clans largely destroyed in the Magic Wars.”

  “The Magic Wars?” Alastar frowned.

  “That’s what we call it,” Donnon explained. “You have another term for it?”

  Alastar nodded and said, “The Holy War.”

  “Why am I not surprised? And now that your sister is involved and you’re a fugitive, what side do you find yourself on in this so called Holy War?”

  Alastar’s face flushed red. “I’m still on the righteous side; we’ve just suffered a minor setback.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. I mean to see that those sorcerers pay for what they did to my home and paladin brethren. But most of all, I mean to heal my sister.”

  “Heal?” she asked. “I have a disease now? Some ailment you must see stricken from my body?”

  “Don’t you agree?” he asked.

  She stood there, head cocked to one side. “I have no idea. But I know this—I don’t feel like something’s wrong with me. I mean, I know I’ve been taught that magic is evil, and it scares the shite out of me…”

  “Language,” her brother reminded her again with a frown.

  “Get over it,” Donnon said with a laugh as he clapped Rhona on the shoulder. “If the woman wants to swear now that she’s out of the stuffy confines of your castle, let her. To hell with them, I say.”

  “Thank you.” She beamed and gave Alastar a so there look, then blushed as they kept walking. She wasn’t sure what was coming over her, but something about being tired and realizing that she had done magic—not once, but twice—and used it to save them, gave her more confidence in each step and made her stand a little taller.

  What if she didn’t want to be “healed” of this? What if she wanted to see a bit more of what it was? She was certain that whatever she had done hadn’t been evil, since it had helped people.

  If something saved lives, how could it be bad?

  Donnon nodded to the cliffs and then addressed Alastar. “What do you say about getting into something less paladin looking?”

  Alastar bit his lip, looking down at his armor. “It’s not like we have other clothes just lying around, right?”

  “You could lose the cloak, maybe smother the armor with mud and pass for a regular knight? Maybe say you’re from the south.”

  The thought of doing so came as a shock, judging by the look on Alastar’s face.

  “I could never,” he said. “The cloak and armor are sacred.”

  “You’d rather they toss you to the depths of the lake and see if you float? Because I have a feeling you don’t, even if your so-called Saint were to finally answer your prayers.”

  “Insult Saint Rodrick again, and we’ll see how your magic does against my sword.”

  Donnon hesitated at that, then sighed. “Honestly, if you were them and a paladin just walked up, fully clad in armor with a sword at his waist, what would you do?”

  “Point taken,” Alastar said, then looked over at Rhona, debating.

  “If you’re wondering what I think,” she said, “I recommend you do as the warlock says.”

  Donnon rolled his eyes at being called a warlock again, but since he didn’t argue it, he must’ve realized doing so was pointless.

  “And when I march back with the Sword of Light to present it to the High Paladin, you two would have me covered in mud? I will not!”

  “The Sword of Light?” Rhona shook her head, trying to make sense of this. “How do you expect to find something no one before you has had any luck in finding?”

  “With the help of him,” Alastar said, nodding to Donnon.

  “Me?” Donnon scoffed. “Self-absorbed and delusional, I see.”

  “The war against your kind hasn’t been purely out of a desire to punish the wicked,” Alastar said, lowering his voice. “We know your people have knowledge that can help us in the search for the lost sword.”

  “You’ve been hunting us down and what, torturing us for information on some mythical sword lost one-hundred years ago? That’s sick.”

  “If we find it, nothing can stop us. Forget the clans and their warlocks and witches, I’m talking the Storm Raiders even. Then the lands will be united, with the Order of Rodrick at their head right alongside the King.” Alastar’s eyes shone with excitement. “Don’t you see what good this could do? These lands were once united, I’m told. Long before the Age of Madness, there was one ruler, and we were prosperous. Now look at us. This doesn’t need to go on, there can be an end to it… if you just tell us what you know.”

  Donnon shook his head. “First of all, a land co-ruled by the paladins sounds like my worst nightmare. Second… even if anyone had such information and wanted to share it, it wouldn't be me. You need to speak to our Laird, the chief of the clans. See if you can convince him such a world is for our best.”

  “It’s not likely,” Rhona chimed in.

  “Not bloody likely at all.”

  Alastar ran a hand through his hair, eyes to the clouds above. “You two continue doubting, but I see no other way of keeping the Storm Raiders from our land. Whatever threat those sorcerers who attacked us last night pose, there might be much more room for paladins and the clans working together in the near future.”

  “Aye, there might be.” Donnon pointed past them, through the trees to a figure moving toward them. “But right now, we have more immediate concerns. How about that mud, Alastar?”

  Alastar nodded, biting his lip to hold back a curse, Rhona guessed, and then unhooked his cloak when a voice nearby said, “It’s too late for that, holy paladin.”

  They all froze, but Rhona was the first to see the speaker. A woman in a nearby tree, bow pulled taught, arrow aimed right at Alastar. She wore clothes of blue and black, pulled tight and showing off her curves.

  “Who are you?” Rhona demanded.

  Before the lady could answer, Donnon said, “The Lady Estair of Clan Renair.” He bowed his head and then added. “Clan Buchan sent me, we are in need of your assistance.”

  “And these two are?”

  “Your prisoners, for all I care,” he replied.

  Alastar spun on him, hand on his sword, but an arrow came from the opposite direction, hitting the ground at his feet.

  “The next will not miss,” Lady Estair said and then nodded at the trees surrounding them. It was only then that Rhona noticed at least a dozen more men and women with arrows at the ready.

  They had escaped the sorcerers, only to walk right into this. She would have to remember to thank her brother later.

  5

  Alastar was furious. Not only had he been shot at, but now he saw one of those men aim an arrow at his sister.

  Big mistake.

  It was as if all of his worries from the last couple of hours were swept away by the river of his emotions by his need to protect. The prayer came to his lips even as he charged. A bright light engulfed him and his sister and shone from his sword even as he swung it to knock aside the arrow that came his way. He hadn’t needed to swing though, as the arrow hit the edge of the light and flew around it as if swept aside by a mighty wind. It landed with a twang in a tree next to a newcomer’s head.

  The figure they had seen approaching stood there, at the outskirts of the whole situation, the arrow still shaking less than a foot from his eyes.

  “Hold,” he said, lifting a hand. The others immediately lowered their bows and arrows, but didn’t take their eyes off of Alastar.

  The man wore blue plaid, but black pants instead of a kilt. He wore a cap on his head at an angle and had gray in his thick beard. His hands were folded behind him in a very nonchalant manner, which told Alastar one thing—warlock.

&nb
sp; “Name yourself!” Alastar demanded, sword held out with rippling waves of light moving along its blade.

  “Curses, Alastar,” Donnon hissed, head bowed. “You have the pleasure of addressing Laird Lokane.”

  “And I see you’ve met my master of war,” Lokane said with a nod toward Lady Estair. “And you attacked, which makes me wonder why you’re still alive.”

  “We didn’t,” Alastar protested. “They attacked us, and I defended.”

  “You are on our land,” Estair argued. “The clansman is welcome. Paladins and their lovers are not.”

  “Sister,” Rhona corrected her. “And… eww.”

  Ignoring that comment as nothing more than a sentiment he agreed with and not a slight against his looks or charm, Alastar felt compelled to educate this lady. “Paladins take no lovers, as it’s against our holy order. We are above such physical temptations.”

  Estair gave him a doubtful look, then dropped down from the tree and stood there before him. “You can’t be serious. You’re not tempted in the least?” She reached up and loosened a cloth, allowing it to fall so that her shoulder was exposed, along with, just barely, the top of her breast.

  Rhona gave him a nudge, and he realized he’d been staring.

  “Yeah, not in the least,” Estair said with a smile, and the others burst into laughter.

  “Lady Estair,” Lokane said. “That’s not very… lady like.”

  “Neither would be screwing this paladin’s brains out, but I’d be tempted to do it to prove a point right now.” Alastar felt his blood flowing and had to adjust his armor in a most unholy way. The Lady noticed, and she winked. “Never mind, point proven.”

  Alastar felt his cheeks burning red, but refused to play by these uncivilized people’s games.

  “I’m a man, I never denied that,” he said, standing tall. “It’s the will not to act on urges that separates my kind from yours.”

  “Come now,” a young woman still in one of the trees said. “Now, he’s just daring you to bed him. Go on, get it over with. I’ll find us all some good fruit and nuts to snack on while we enjoy the show.”

  Another round of laughter, cut off by Rhona shouting, “ENOUGH!” When everyone was looking at her, she stepped forward, out of the circle of light. “We come seeking sanctuary, not whatever the hell this is. The next woman who makes a joke at my virgin brother’s expense—”