Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  Stifling his frustrated curiosity, Marcus let Annie take the lead. She called out a terse thank you to Snuffy for his services, then stalked ahead.

  Marcus trotted to catch up as she disappeared around a bend. He stepped around the corner then stopped dead in his tracks.

  “What the fuck?”

  38

  Julianne stood at Annie’s front door, resisting the urge to send her mind wandering towards the enemy again. It would be easier to work once they were in view, and she needed to save her energy.

  Julianne meditated, drawing back the energy she'd used. When a scream echoed through the night, she blew out a slow breath. Killing was anathema to mystics, but sometimes, it was needed.

  To take a guilty life in order to protect an innocent one was a burden she was willing to bear, as many times as it took to free the people her magic had enslaved. She reminded herself of that as the sound of the enemy drew near.

  “To arms!” Julianne screamed, using magic to echo her voice to sound like an army. It wouldn't affect the shielded mystics, but the mind-controlled guards would be squirming in their boots. The less they wanted to comply, the greater effort the mystics would have to expend to keep them under control. And, she thought with a smile, the greater the chance the guards would begin to break free.

  Her cry signaled the rearick, and the quiet sound of running feet let her know Bette, at least, was on her way.

  An arrow flew through the air, aimed at the corner the army would round in just a few moments. Three more flew before a muttered scheisse sounded from the trees.

  Steady on, Julianne thought. She didn't send the words, too focused on the empty road.

  Surrenderrrrr. The word whispered through her mind like a gentle breeze. Julianne gripped her staff tighter. Then, Bette screamed.

  39

  Annie stood proudly in the center of the small crowd that had gathered beneath the rocky overhang. Beside it, an open clearing was dotted with small tents and basic buildings.

  “Don’t look so insulted, boy. I told you, it wasn’t my secret to tell. These people fled for their lives, nearly all of them are weak and vulnerable and couldn’t stand up to those cretins down in the village. I couldn’t break their trust, not even for your pretty girlfriend.”

  Marcus blushed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “What have you brought us, Annie?” A burly man stepped forward from the small group of refugees. He leaned heavily on a walking stick.

  “Settle yourself, Hank. He's part of the group I sent word about. Turns out, they're not a bit like those twats that took our town. They're here to help.”

  Hank frowned, putting himself between Marcus and the women and children behind him. “How do we know you won't just take their place? Small town like ours is just ripe for the picking.”

  “You trying to give him ideas, Hank?” an old woman called from behind him.

  “I'm just stating what any fool can see with their own eyes.”

  “Please, just hear me out.” Marcus put his hands up defensively. “Julianne is the leader of a colony of mystics, from across the Madlands. A few weeks ago, a woman named Donna turned up, spewing hate and saying she and her friends wanted to take over the whole damn world.”

  Marcus scanned the faces before him. Some had started at Donna’s name. Others simply nodded with recognition. “Julianne refused to let that happen. She’d just risked everything to save Arcadia from the same fate, from Adrien’s rule.” Now, they looked blank, confused. He screwed up his face, wishing she were here to help him talk to these people.

  “Look, Adrien was a bad guy, ok? He had magic and used it to push people into the dirt, elevate himself above them. Julianne was part of the revolution that took him down.”

  “She saved a bunch of these mystic people from a dictator?” Hank asked.

  “No.” Marcus took a deep breath. “She saved people like you. Well, like you, but piss poor and crammed into an overpopulated slum. Adrien created that slum, forced the people into it and took what money they had so they had no hope of getting out.”

  “And your woman took his head off?”

  Marcus smirked. “Not alone. But she was there, fighting for the people when it happened. So was I. And we won’t stand by and let another self-righteous dictator ruin lives. Now, who wants to take some heads?”

  “I never can tell. Did you mean than in a literal sense?” Another old man stepped forward, his matted hair swinging down past his elbows and his beard almost as long—and disgusting. He noticed Marcus’s grimace and snorted. “You’d look like shit, too, if you were living in a damned cave for this long. Gah, the manners of some people.” He turned away irritably, and it was only then that a shocked Marcus had realized what was different about the old man.

  Not his tattered shirt or gnarled fingers. Not the coating of grime. His eyes. His eyes were white as snow.

  40

  Julianne swallowed hard, but didn't rush forward. Instead she carefully reached out, finding Bette still in the trees unharmed. A trick, and a lousy one at that. Julianne strengthened her shields and stepped back into the shadows. She threw her mind forwards again, to the army that slowed a few hundred feet from the final bend in the road.

  They walked carefully now, losing their tight formation to spread over the road, some of them ducking into the trees.

  An arrow pierced the neck of a mystic, and Julianne pounced, slashing through the first weakened shield she could find. This one controlled a guard, and an unwilling one at that. Despite the desperate craving for the mind-pleasure, he fought against it and ached to resist the presence in his mind.

  Fight, she whispered to the trapped soul. Run if you want, or fight with me.

  She left the guard, satisfied when a moment later, all hell broke loose. Still riding in the mind of a dazed mystic, she watched as one of the rear guards suddenly started thrashing, plowing through the tail end of the group with his weapon and laying waste to any who got in his way.

  Two more arrows flew, meaty thwacks punctuating the cries of rage and pain. Then, two more. The army was in chaos, as mystics fell and their guards turned on them.

  “Pair up, pair up!” The cry went out and bloodied hands reached out to form bonds.

  One touched the hand of the mystic Julianne still held in thrall, and she let them begin the shielding process. Her partners gave her a mental shove, then screamed as their minds were engulfed in illusions.

  Julianne showed them fiery arrows raining down, explosions and scorched, smoking bodies thrown into the air. One of them ran, the other sank to the ground screaming, arms over his head to protect him from the imaginary attack.

  The hysteria spread as Julianne touched mind after mind, forcing her way through inadequate shields and infecting them with horror and despair.

  Her knees buckled, and she pulled back. Exhaustion washed over her and she knew she'd come dangerously close to overdoing it. The sounds of battle clanged in her ears and even her meditation didn't dull them.

  A hand grabbed hers, pulling Julianne away from the door.

  “Come on, they're too close.” Bastian wrapped an arm around her waist and half pulled, half lifted her towards the back of the house.

  The front door slammed open and without hesitation, Bastian sent a magitech blast straight at the bearded man who filled the doorway. He was flung back onto the porch. Bastian kicked the door closed and threw the latch over it.

  Moments later, footsteps thundered along the old wooden boards. “Come out, whore!” The rough voice sent chills down Julianne's spine.

  She and Bastian ran along the back of the house. Fighting near the barn drowned out the voices that had joined the one in the house.

  “Stop,” Julianne snapped. “We don't run from this. We fight.”

  Bastian eyed her, then nodded. He lifted the weapon Marcus had given him and raised it. “Go that way. The dead tree near the barn is half rotted, hide inside it. You can see the house and the road from there.
”

  Julianne grinned. “Where's the fun in that?”

  When the first burly guard slammed Annie's back door open and stepped outside, Julianne waved. “Over here, ass maggot!”

  “What the hell is an ass maggot?” Bastian hissed.

  Julianne giggled as adrenaline filled her veins. “Something a friend taught me.” She waited until the guard was halfway across the yard, then sprinted forwards. She thumped him on the head as she passed, twirling to a stop behind him. Another crack with her staff had him on the ground before he could strike at her once.

  Two more people ran out of the house. “That one!” the first yelled, and two more joined them.

  “This could be a little harder than expected,” Julianne muttered. “Bastian, you take the orange one. Don’t get hurt.” She eyed the robed mystic. “You don’t know what you’re up against,” she said.

  Straightening from her fighting stance, Julianne whispered to herself as her eyes went white. She slammed into a solid shield. Instead of wasting valuable energy on it, she pulled back just enough to graze the minds of the guards, tightly wrapped in mental restraints.

  “We're going to play it like this, are we?” Still in a trance, Julianne dropped her weight a little, balancing her staff in two hands. The attackers fanned out around her.

  A guard moved in, and she thwacked him in the face with her staff, then ducked a punch from another. Her touch on their minds gave her the slightest edge as she read their intent before they moved.

  “For guards, you guys are awfully bad at your job,” she said as her stick crunched against one’s fingers. He yelped and dropped his weapon, unable to move them even as his master dulled the pain. “That’ll hurt later, I’m afraid.”

  “Finish her!” the mystic barked.

  Three left. Julianne’s head throbbed, and she squinted past the pain, unwilling to let her mind read drop even for an instant.

  A guard stepped forward and she struck out, startled when she missed. Her mental control faltered and slipped away, leaving her deaf to his thoughts. The guard stood, trembling. Julianne darted a glance at his master and saw why immediately.

  The mystics blue robes were wet and brown. Blood cascaded from his throat as he stared at her, eyes wide and mouth stammering silent words. He collapsed to the ground and behind him, a feral-eyed, bearded man palmed a bloodstained knife, then hobbled away on a thick walking stick. Long hair fell in dirty knots down his back.

  “Who the hell was that?” Julianne muttered. Then, she remembered the guards. “Will you stay and fight?” she asked.

  They exchanged glances. A moment later, all Julianne could see was their disappearing backs as they ran into the forest.

  “Dammit,” Julianne spat. A cry from the barn sent her running.

  Bette and Garrett were faced off against each other. Bette scowled, carefully backing away while Garrett breathed hard, his small crossbow aimed at her. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Run, lass. Just run. I dinna think… I can’t…”

  “Fight it, Garrett!” Julianne couldn’t even summon a flicker of her magic. “Bastian, find that mystic. I don't care if you have to throw rocks at their head.”

  Bastian nodded and ran off. Julianne stepped up next to Bette, hands up defensively. “Garrett, you can stop them. Just concentrate. Focus inside, find your core and slam it in their faces.”

  “Bullshit,” Bette snapped. “That ass wipe couldn't fight off a brass balled monkey, let alone a mystic.” Her eyes narrowed. “He couldn't even beat me in a real fight!”

  Garrett screamed. He threw his arms wide, throwing the crossbow and roaring until his face went red and the veins in his neck looked ready to burst. “Like fuck I can't beat ye in a fight, rearick!” he yelled. A wide grin spread over his face. “But not today, Bette. Today, we fuck the mind fuckers.”

  Bette cheered and ran over to squeeze Garrett in a suffocating hug. She punched his arm, hard, and slapped his shoulder while laughing gleefully. “I knew ye’d fight the mind-fucking shit-stain off!” She didn't see the pained look on his face, and Julianne was too polite to mention it.

  A shout rang out and the thud of a magitech blast trembled in the air. “Got him!” Bastian yelled from outside.

  Together, the rearick ran through the barn entry, into the battle outside. Julianne slumped against a wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself a moment of meditation. The brief exercise didn’t help her headache, but took some of the tiredness that sapped her power.

  New faces had appeared in the battle outside. Julianne saw a toothless old man and a white-haired woman in the fray, along with children too young to be fighting.

  Just as she wondered where they’d come from, she caught sight of foppish blonde hair bouncing through the guards as they fell. Marcus. What the hell?

  Julianne took a steadying breath, then reached out to Bastian and Danil. Time to light a fire under these bastards, she sent. She slipped deeper into her meditation then, fortifying her strength as much as she could.

  She worked an image, sending thin tendrils of smoke up from the nearby wood. It thickened, darkening the air even as flames began to lap the trees and grass. The army began to dissipate and some turned to run back down the road they'd marched on less than a hour before.

  That's when it came. The big green beast rose from the trees on wings the size of wagons, its tail lashing angrily. He opened his maw and belched out a breath of burning flame. Julianne dropped her illusion and staggered back, raising her arms over her face as the creature turned its great head past her.

  “Dragon!” The scream pierced the air and the last of the army fell, quivering in fear of the monstrous beast.

  The townspeople cheered, weak voices sending out a frail cry that lifted her heart nonetheless.

  “Hurry up, I can’t hold this bloody thing all day.”

  Julianne spun. Behind her stood a grey-haired man, eyes white and face dirty. By his side, Marcus grinned.

  She blinked. “Artemis?” she gasped.

  “Yes?” He blinked back at her, waiting for a question.

  “No, I mean…” Astounded, she looked towards the soldier instead. “Marcus, what the hell?”

  Marcus chuckled. “Found him. Well, Annie did. I left her and Lilly in an old ruin. Her husband used to shelter there when he was on a hunt. Turns out old Artemis here had claimed the place as his own.”

  Artemis frowned. “No, I didn't. I was just living there. Never said it was mine.”

  Marcus gave him a sideways glance and nodded slowly. “Anyway, I thought I'd come back and see if I could help. Art wanted to see what was going on.”

  “Artemis,” the old man grumped.

  “Sorry. Artemis. Anyway, what are you going to do with all them? Surely you can't hold that dragon illusion up forever?” Marcus ran his eyes over the cowering army.

  41

  “I still don't understand why you let them live,” Marcus said. He gripped his empty cup, turning it in his hands.

  Julianne plucked it out of his hands and set it firmly on the table. “Because we don't really know if they deserved to die,” Julianne said. “Many of them were brainwashed into thinking they were serving a greater good. This leader of theirs really knows his stuff, I don't know how long it'll take to undo what he did. Or even if we can.”

  “It takes approximately three days to reverse the spell, then twelve more weeks for full rehabilitation,” Artemis said, coming in. He dragged off his coat and looked for a place to put it. Not seeing anywhere good enough, he shrugged and dropped it on the floor.

  “What do you know about it, mystic?” Marcus asked.

  “I taught it to him. It wasn’t hard. The shielding, too.”

  “To August?” Julianne struggled to put the pieces together in her mind.

  “Don't be an idiot. August doesn't have a talented bone in his body. I taught Rogan, and he spread it to the rest once they were his. Or he tried to. Or maybe he didn't. The techniques these peop
le used were crass and inefficient, though perhaps they have a more sustained effect. I really should look into that.”

  “Who's Rogan? And why the hell would you teach him how to control people like that?” Marcus picked his cup again, this time gripping it almost tight enough to crush the ceramic.

  Julianne snatched it back. “Artemis, he's right. Rogan is Master of the Dawn, he’s the leader of this damned cult. He's making people into slaves! You don't condone that, surely?”

  Artemis gave an exasperated grunt. “I didn’t mean to. I was researching. You can’t study a spell without a subject. I didn't think he'd do… well, all that.” He frowned, the long hairs of his brows drooping sadly. “He said he just wanted to be my friend. He probably didn’t mean it. Most don't.”

  Julianne rubbed her head. “So, you can undo the spell that made them his lackeys? Free these mystics and the rest of the town?”

  Artemis sat up. “The town? Oh no. They'll need more healing than a few weeks’ worth. The mystics, though, he just used plain old magic on those. Feedback loop. Pretty simple when you think about it. I wonder why someone didn’t come up with it before this.”

  “You'll help us, though?” Julianne asked, leaning over the table. “Help us undo the damage he caused?”

  “Well, on account of it being my fault, I suppose I must.” Artemis dug in his beard, scratching his chin. “Then what?”

  Julianne fell silent, thinking it through. “We take in those who will help, rehabilitate the town. Once that's done, we can hunt down August—he wasn't among the dead, or those we captured—and try to find Rogan. And we deal with him—permanently.”

  “And the rest?” Marcus asked.

  Julianne nodded gravely. “They have one chance. I hope that most of them acted outside of their own will, but any who didn't won't get the chance to do this to anyone else.”