Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  “Very wise, Protector,” Krann said.

  Lungu frowned and locked his dark brown eyes on Krann’s. “I didn’t grant you this audience to receive flattery. I have a whole court for that. I expect nothing but facts from my Commissioners.”

  “Yes, Protector Lungu. My apologies,” Krann said. His voice sounded calm in his ears, but his heart pounded as if it wanted to escape his chest. An audience with the esteemed Protector was a rare thing.

  “Your report said this woman snuck into the Keep admin building, assaulted a guard, and forced her way into your office… to pay a toll?”

  “The day before, she fought Pleth’s men on the Toll Road after refusing to be taken into custody.”

  “Are any of these men dead?” Lungu asked.

  “None,” Krann said, after a moment of hesitation. “Their injuries were not minor, but they weren’t severe, either.”

  Lungu pinched his dimpled chin and stared through Krann. He blinked and finally responded. “This is a very skilled fighter we are dealing with. I’m not sure that you are aware how much training and restraint it takes to do what this woman has done.”

  “I think I have some idea,” Krann said in spite of himself. He rubbed his hand on his sore neck where Astrid pinched his windpipe closed. At that moment, with her hand expertly cutting off his ability to breathe, he thought he would die.

  “Fair enough,” Lungu said with an easy smile. The man’s face seemed to go from clouds to sunshine in seconds. “It was in your report, but tell me what she said again. I want to hear it in your voice.”

  “She said that she would—”

  “No, think, Krann, think. I want to hear exactly what she said. Remember.”

  Lungu seized him with his eyes that turned black, then white as eggshells. The Protector had learned a little mental magic, but using it drained him. Krann’s hands fell limp on his lap. “She said, ‘The Village of Argan will pay its rightful share to this Protectorate, but not if it means children will starve. This territory has a Protector? Fine. Argan now has me to protect it.’”

  It was as if he were there, in that room again. Then, it was over. Lungu released him.

  “Argan village… why there?” Lungu asked.

  “She came to pay her toll. After she threw the coin on my desk, she told me that one of Pleth’s men used a compliance measure with the village Elder.”

  “Ah, Pleth,” he sighed. “I remember him now. This is why that village sounds familiar. Your man Pleth sent along the most delicious sugar beet wine made in that village. He included a personal note, in fact. Very nice touch. We drank it at the last Protector’s territorial meeting. Nothing like good drinks to help settle disputes.”

  Lungu paused for a moment as he delved deeper into the memory. “Yes, and then the note mentioned something about a sick child. I don’t know. I skip the boring parts. When you’re at the top, everyone looks to you for handouts.”

  Krann went cold inside. His toes and fingers went numb from the rage he masked so expertly. There was no record of sugar beet wine production from Argan Village. Pleth did this behind his back to earn favor with Lungu.

  “Oh,” Lungu exclaimed. “That village also grows the most wonderful hot peppers! Your man Pleth certainly knows how to allocate acreage. I gave a bushel of hot peppers to Protector Petran, and he could hardly eat one. He makes his agent trainees eat one every day. Said it filled them with vigor!”

  Krann stared at Lungu with a dead face while he seethed inside. “There is one thing, though, that is peculiar,” Krann said. “The woman said that she left a note for us on Pleth’s wagon. Pleth did not report this, nor did his men mention any note.”

  “Oh?” Lungu replied. “That is most disconcerting.” He paused a moment. “Let Pleth have his secret. When he thinks his lie is safe, we will come for it. That is the best time to unpack a lie. In the meantime, I want you to send Jank back to the village and retrieve this Astrid person. I want her brought to me unharmed.”

  “Yes, Great Protector,” Krann said.

  “Get to work, Krann,” Lungu said. He rose to his feet and walked away without another word. His attendants fell in behind him like a nervous train.

  9

  Argan Village, Lungu Protectorate

  While Krann was having his audience with Protector Lungu, Astrid was busy trying to convince Argan why they should let bandits into their home.

  “I know that you are new to the Territories, Astrid,” Popova said. “But these people cannot be trusted. They are parasites.”

  Woody jumped in. To his credit, he had remained silent until then. “You know what parasites are? Survivors. Yes, we suck blood sometimes to survive. We didn’t ask to be born in the woods. You don’t find us raiding your precious fields, do you?”

  “No,” Popova shot back. “You only rob the tribute after it leaves our fields, then we have to make up for it.”

  “You’re all rich from where I’m standing,” Woody fired back. “My grandfather came from Napul village. Do you remember Napul?”

  Popova’s eyes widened, and she cast her eyes to the ground.

  “What?” Astrid asked. “What does that mean?”

  Popova kept her eyes on the ground and said, “Sometimes, when a village doesn’t perform the way that the Protector expects, it is dissolved.”

  “Dissolved?” Astrid asked. “Explain.”

  “The Compliance Officers come,” Woody said. “They evict everyone with just the clothes on their backs. Some of them go to other villages if they will have them. The proud ones go to the woods and the caves and become woods people.”

  “Bandits,” Popova said. “Call yourself what you really are.”

  “I prefer ‘survivor,’” Woody said.

  Astrid shook her head briskly, trying to process what Popova said. “That’s a policy?”

  “It’s been that way since the protectors started practicing magic,” Popova said. “The Commissioners don’t like it, but there’s nothing they can do.”

  “I don’t get it,” Astrid said. “Why do the Commissioners not like it? That seems like something Krann would approve of.”

  “They say it’s not in the original ‘Protectorate Charter,’” Woody replied. “The Commissioners are supposed to administer law and order. The Protectors are supposed to represent that law and order. The Commissioners have some mucky-muck legal document that they keep locked up like some fucking holy book.”

  "That’s asinine,” Astrid exclaimed. “It makes no damn sense to empty a whole village because they fall short of production.”

  “The Protectors find it to be an excellent motivator. How do they put it… yeah, ‘effective management practice,’” Woody said. “That’s the way it is. Right about the time they figured out how to snap necks with a thought, they discovered they could bypass the Commissioners by hiring their fucking ‘Compliance Officers’ who they point at anyone who isn’t toeing the line. The Protectors got together and wrote these extra rules on top of the charter. It’s like that in all the different Protectorates.”

  “So, Jank and his goons are what… private security?” Astrid asked.

  “Pretty much. They’re paid out of the Protector’s own purse. It’s a way for him to counter the power of the Commissioners. We’re all just caught in the middle.”

  “It won’t take much to gain the upper hand,” Astrid said. Turning to Popova, she declared, “Look, this thing will go much better if we have allies.”

  “But Astrid,” Popova pleaded. “We can’t take in more mouths to feed.”

  “Oh, come on,” Woody said. “You can’t handle fifteen more people for a few days? What about your winter margins?”

  “Pleth took them all,” Popova said.

  “The whole winter surplus?” Woody asked, shocked.

  “The surplus was thin because he made us grow luxury crops, then the harvest wasn’t so great this year.”

  “I… I had no idea… ” Woody said. “That’s… just wrong.”
His eyes hardened. “Maybe we do some extra hunting today and forage a bit more to bring back.”

  “You’d do that?” Popova asked.

  “We’re not what you think we are,” Woody said, sounding insulted and hurt. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Or,” Gormer said, leaning on a convenient barrel. “Why don’t we do some hunting of a different kind.”

  “What do you mean?” Astrid inquired.

  “I know what he means,” Popova said. “I can’t be here for that conversation. The woods people can stay. They can pitch their tents on the south side of the village in the clearing near the fields..”

  “We only ask for flat ground,” Woody said.

  “It’s flat there,” Popova said. “No stones. It’s our rotation field.” She hurried away to inform the village.

  Gormer moved to speak, but Astrid silenced him. “Woody,” Astrid said. “If you stay here, I need your people to show respect and their word they won’t steal from the village.”

  “Bandits don’t shit where they eat,” Woody said. “As far as respect goes, we have our own brand of it. Mild folk might take offense. Not much we can do about that.”

  “I thought you wanted to be called ‘woods people,’” Astrid said.

  “By others,” Woody said with a wink. “We’re fuckin’ bandits, OK?”

  Astrid shook her head.

  “Can I talk now?” Gormer asked, folding his arms across his chest and tapping his foot.

  “Go ahead,” Woody and Astrid said at the same time.

  “Some of the harvests in Blue Creek and Griffin were very good this year. Assessors are having to make multiple trips. They’re overworked—doing multiple runs. I say we hit one or two of these shipments hard.” Gormer rubbed his hands together. “Take the coin and everything.”

  “We usually don’t take everything,” Woody said. “The Assessors just squeeze the villages harder if we do that. We just take enough so that the people don’t get taxed again. It’s the unspoken way. We’ve been at it for years… ”

  “Yeah, but this is all gravy, and the villages can afford it,” Gormer explained. “Besides, none of the assessors but Pleth are such assholes about taxing to make back losses. Most of the others let shit slide. Don’t forget: a lot of the Assessors came from the villages.”

  “I don’t like this Pleth,” Tarkon said. Everyone jumped a little. He had been so silent and still that they nearly forgot him. “He sounds like a man driven by greed and his own sense of petty power.”

  “Yeah,” Astrid said. “But you never know a man until you spend a day with him.”

  “True,” Tarkon said. “But sometimes, the words that precede the man tell of who he is.”

  “Oh, wow,” Gormer said. “Can we just get past the ‘words of wisdom’ cock jousting and make a fucking decision?”

  “I don’t have a cock,” Astrid said.

  “You have a figurative cock,” Gormer replied. “Your metaphorical lady cock. Put it away and give us a yes or a no.”

  “This is beneath my dignity,” Tarkon said. “I will take part in the raid against the unjust functionaries.” He walked away, saying, “Call me when you reach a decision.”

  “That fucking guy… ” Gormer said, shaking his head. “I bet he bleeds vinegar.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Astrid asked.

  “We go down the Toll Road then on the back roads—twenty miles in all. It’s about three hours with the horses. If we start now, we can be at their camp when they stop there for mid-day break.”

  “You know where they camp?” Woody asked.

  “Of course,” Gormer winked.

  “But we just got rid of the compliance officers,” Astrid said. “I wanted to be here when they came back.”

  Woody scratched his chin and thought for a moment. Astrid waited. “Argan is the last village on the Toll Road,” Woody said. “This high, flat land it’s on is difficult to approach.”

  “What are you getting at?” Astrid inquired.

  “You go on the raid. If the Compliance Officers come, we’ll make sure they never make it to the village.”

  “Don’t kill too many of them,” Astrid said. “We want to avoid escalation as long as possible.”

  “We’re professionals. We don’t kill unless we have to,” Woody grinned. “Or unless we really, really want to… or someone really has it coming… or—”

  “I get it!” Astrid said, holding up her hand. She considered Woody’s offer, knowing there was only one way to find out if a person could be trusted. That was to trust them and then see what happens.

  “Besides,” Woody said. “I have something better in mind than killing them.”

  “That’s your job, then. Just remember what I told you,” she said. Woody nodded his head, looking deadly serious. “And thank, you,” she added.

  Astrid left Vinnie and Gormer to discuss strategy with Woody and his crew while she went off to find Tarkon.

  She found the strange, silent, brooding man kneeling down in the place where the village kept a pile of field stones dug up from ploughing. He had the two strange objects he called his weapons laid out in front of him.

  Astrid caught sight of his eyes, which suddenly turned black, then glowed red and orange with dancing flames. Tarkon reached out for a reddish rock, picked it up, then pressed it between his palms.

  Astrid jumped back when steam and smoke hissed from his clasped fingers. The backs of his hands glowed orange. Fine red dust, almost like a mist, came up from the ground and streamed toward his hands.

  After a few seconds, Tarkon opened his hands and a perfect metal sphere dropped to the ground, glowing red. Astrid stood fascinated while he did this with at least a dozen other rocks, sometimes picking up two or three stones at a time.

  Eventually, he stopped and said, “I can do this when people are watching, but I prefer to call on the Forge alone.”

  “I’m guessing you prefer to do a lot of things alone,” Astrid said, stepping forward. “May I sit?”

  “If you must,” Tarkon said with a sigh.

  Astrid lowered herself down to a lotus position in front of him. Closer to his weapons, she noticed details about them.

  They were hollow. Her first impression of the objects being clubs quickly faded. Tarkon removed a small, steel rod attached to the side of the weapon and set it down. Then, he produced a small square of cloth from a pocket on the left sleeve of his armor. He put the cloth over the hole at the end of the tube, then pressed the ball into the cloth. He used the rod to drive the ball down into the tube.

  “Is that… ” Astrid said breathlessly. “A firearm?”

  “Yes,” Tarkon replied. “And I make the fire.” He pointed to the ball attached to the curved end of the weapon. His eyes turned solid black this time and glowed red only in the corners. “I focus the fire in here, and my bullets fly.” He held out his hand, palm up and his eyes literally caught fire inside. A globe of flames rose up from his hand like a miniature sun, making his face glow.

  “What are you doing with those stones?” Astrid pointed to the collection of rocks around Tarkon.

  “I come from ‘The Order of the Forge,’” he replied. “My magic draws the metal from the earth through these stones.” He took another square of cloth and drove it down the weapon with the rod.

  When both weapons were loaded, he reattached the rods then put the firearms back into the leather straps on his belt. Tarkon rose smoothly to his feet and fixed Astrid with his nearly-black eyes.

  “What’s our mission?” he asked flatly.

  Astrid studied him for a moment. A man so purposely hard to read usually had a lot to hide, either from shame or pain. She guessed it was a lot of both.

  “We’re going to raid a tribute party—maybe get these folks a little more to eat. We might even get them some coin,” Astrid said.

  Tarkon nodded his head and turned to the approach of horses. The bandits had loaned them enough for all four of the
raiding party to have their own mount. Vinnie, of course, had to keep the stolen draft horse from the keep. The other horses flat out refused to carry him.

  “I wouldn’t ask that of a lesser creature than this fine boy,” he said, patting the muscular horse’s neck.

  “Does he know that is a plow horse?” Tarkon whispered to Astrid.

  “Let him have his day,” Astrid said. “The horse, too,” she added.

  Something like a smile made the corners of Tarkon’s mouth twitch for a split second.

  Gormer lead the way on a skinny horse that pooped a lot. Tarkon had the misfortune of riding behind it. Vinnie took up the rear on his much larger, slower steed. Astrid’s borrowed mount seemed to like nipping Tarkon’s horse in the butt.

  “These animals are very strange,” Astrid observed. “They seem to be… argumentative… ”

  “The woods people rub off on everyone,” Gormer said. “Even horses.”

  Just as Gormer estimated, it took a little over two hours to arrive at their destination.

  “There’s a watering hole just over that next rise,” Gormer said. “We should leave the horses here and climb over. We won’t have line-of-sight because the woods are too thick. But if we’re careful, we can sneak right up on them.”

  “Let’s hope you’re not wrong,” Tarkon said.

  “Life of the party,” Gormer sneered as they headed off.

  As they neared the top of the low ridge, they heard loud voices and raucous laughter. Then, they heard a scream like no other. The laughter grew louder after the scream which sounded not-quite-human somehow.

  “What the hell was that?” Astrid said.

  “They’re torturing someone,” Vinnie said, alarmed.

  They hurried as fast as they could without being too noisy. They stopped when they reached the edge of the clearing and hunkered down in the brush.

  A group of nearly a dozen men made a circle around something on the ground. They passed around a jug as they laughed and jeered. They threw rocks and raised sticks up over their head and brought them down on whomever it was that was hidden from view.