Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  George let go of her hand and raised both of his, palms forward. “I just wanted to see what you’re made of,” he said. “I don’t want to finish off someone I can work with.”

  Astrid just smiled. Yeah, she thought, finish me. Sure. Save that face.

  “Let’s see what we can work out.” Astrid said.

  16

  On the Toll Road

  “It’s a good day to collect tribute,” Jank’s wagon guard said to his partner. They rode along beside the Assessor’s cart under a crystal blue, late October sky. Both men wore the polished, black, light armor common to all Jank’s mercenaries.

  Both men carried crossbows across their saddles that were loaded and ready to fire.

  “What do you think, Oscar?” the lead guard, named Roger, asked the Assessor.

  His double-complement of ten men rode on the wagon’s running boards looking glum. Riding the wagon this way was surprisingly tiring, especially with a full load that made the wagon sway back and forth. Some of the men got seasick.

  Twelve men in all made up the Assessor’s guard.

  “I think you both talk too damn much,” Oscar grumbled. “You’d do better to focus on the road and look out for bandits.”

  Roger laughed and asked his companion, “What do you think, Tommy?”

  “I think these Assessors need to worry less, especially since we’re on the job,” Tommy replied. “We have superior training, armor, weapons, and experience.”

  “Woah!” Oscar called out and nudged the driver, who pulled back on the reins of the two-horse team pulling the wagon. “There’s a cart in the road up ahead.”

  The wagon slowed to a stop. Two young women stood beside a two-wheeled donkey cart with a broken axle. The assessor’s guard jumped down from the wagon and made a protective circle as one of the women started toward them.

  “This could be a trap,” Oscar said.

  “If it is,” Tommy replied. “What a sweet trap.”

  The woman walking quickly toward them was a buxom blonde in a loose-fitting white blouse. She hiked her skirts up high as she hurried forward.

  The men surrounding the cart shifted uneasily, but not from danger. The pretty young woman smiled as she began to run. Roger couldn’t take his eyes off the flesh dancing around beneath the blouse. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard.

  “Thank goodness you’re here!” the young woman called out in a musical voice. “Our cart just broke down. We have to get this shipment of beet wine to the market, or our father will kill us!”

  “Just calm down, sweetheart,” Roger said, giving what he felt was his most disarming smile. “Nobody’s going to kill you. I’ll make certain of that.” He rode his horse forward.

  The woman smiled and batted her eyes at the guards. “Maybe these strong men can help us get the cart back on its axle. I think the spring just slipped a pin.”

  “Roger,” Oscar said. “Be careful… ”

  “Oh, come on,” Roger shot back over his shoulder as he got off his horse. “There are twelve of us.”

  “We should help them,” one of the Assessor’s guards said. “They’re blocking the road. The sooner we clear the cart, the sooner we can get moving.” He licked his lips watching the young woman walk away.

  “I don’t like this at all,” Oscar said.

  “Oh, come on,” the guard said. “If this was a trap, they’d have sprung it already. They’re just a couple of village girls on the way to market.”

  Several of the wagon guards put up their crossbows and followed the young woman. Tommy shrugged his shoulders and followed on his horse.

  “Yup,” Roger said when he reached the cart. “Slipped a pin, alright. You men, get on either side. You lift it up, and I’ll slide under and slip the pins back into the bracket.”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” the second young woman said. She clasped her hands in front of her ample chest while she batted her eyes.

  “Lift!” Roger ordered as he lay under the wagon, keeping one eye on the pin and his other on the second girl’s legs. He had a perfect view up her skirt. He almost dropped the pin.

  The men strained to hold up the cart as Roger aligned the spring and fastened it.

  “So strong! You really know what you’re doing!” The first girl said as Roger stood up. She started brushing the dust off his armor, and her hand lingered at his behind for a moment.

  Roger began to sweat as the girl moved in. “How can we ever thank you?” she asked in a husky voice.

  Roger looked down at her with a smile and fire in his cheeks as she reached up to his shoulders.

  “Well, which village are you heading to?” Roger asked. “Maybe I can help you drink some of this wine.”

  The girl giggled and leaned forward. She dropped her leg back and brought it up to Roger’s crotch in a split second. When he bent forward, she grabbed the back of his head and brought her knee up to his forehead.

  Roger was down and out while the second bandit girl tore through the rest of the guards. Crossbow bolts flew through the air. Men dropped while holding their throats, arms, and crotches.

  Back at the wagon, it took a few seconds for Oscar to recognize what was happening. “Get them, you idiots!” the Assessor screamed.

  A chorus of whistles came from the forest. It appeared that the brush itself came alive and rose up on either side of the road.

  Arrows zipped through the air and planted themselves in the cart. One of the arrows nearly parted Oscar’s hair.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” one of the living bushes said, bow loaded and pointed at Oscar.

  More than twenty bandits stepped out into the road clothed in netted suits festooned with vines and leaves and other plant matter.

  “We don’t want to kill anyone today,” Gormer said, face painted brown and green. “Or, at least, my boss doesn’t. I sure wouldn’t mind.”

  One of the guards standing against the wagon raised his crossbow. Gormer dropped to a knee, then drew back and let loose with an arrow that pinned the guard’s sleeve to the wagon.

  “Ten inches over and that would have been your heart,” Gormer said with a grin. “No need to die for this shitty job,” he said.

  The guard dropped the crossbow. The rest followed suit.

  Gormer stood up and another series of whistles set the bandits to work. They stripped the guards of weapons while the girls with the wagon dumped the empty, broken, decoy wine jugs off their wagon.

  A few minutes later, the operation was complete. The bandits transferred what they wanted to the two-wheeled wagon and left the rest.

  “Are you sure you’re not hiding any coin on you?” Gormer asked with his blade to Oscar’s neck. “Because I’d hate to hear about you holding out on us. I mean, it would go very badly for you next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time, bandit scum,” Oscar growled.

  Gormer kneed him in the gut and pushed him down to the ground.

  Astrid stepped forward for the first time. She bent down and helped Oscar back to his feet. “We’re just here to make things fair,” she said. “The villages won’t pay for extra ‘security,’” Astrid said. “At least, they won’t when men like Jank’s goons steal from them, beat them, and worse. The more you try to squeeze them, the more we will squeeze you.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” Oscar growled.

  “Oh, yes, I do, sweetie. I really do,” Astrid said, slapping Oscar in the face. “Take their ammunition,” Astrid said. “Leave their weapons with them.”

  Gormer looked as if he was about to object, but the bandits understood. They stripped the guards of their crossbow bolts so that at least they could say that they put up a fight.

  “Thank you,” one of the guards whispered as Astrid walked by. “Can you hit me to make it look like I resisted?” he asked.

  “Ah, no, I won’t hit a defenseless ma—”

  Gormer came up behind Astrid and punched the man square in the face. He did the same with
several guards who lifted their chins.

  “Happy to oblige,” Gormer said.

  Astrid laughed and said, “Be careful what you wish for.”

  The girls from the cart were busy urging Jank’s men up the road with kicks to their asses. The mercenaries had their hands behind their backs.

  “You reeking twats,” Roger growled. “We’re gonna kill you. You have no idea the storm you’re about to call.”

  Astrid stepped over to Roger and pushed the two bandit girls aside. She noticed something that disturbed her. With the two mercs on either side of her, Astrid said, in a soft, low voice, “You’re angry because you know you’re weak. Someone lied to you if they told you that you’re soldiers.”

  “If my hands weren’t tied… ” Roger said.

  “Huh,” Astrid replied. “I happen to know you freed your hands minutes after the girls tied them. I know you have daggers in your sleeves.”

  Roger’s eyes went wide. He had only two choices, and he chose wrong.

  Astrid smiled harder and blew him a kiss because she saw it all coming. Her eyes dropped to Roger’s chest—where it was easiest to spot signs of attack.

  Her eyes turned blacker than the night sky as she drew on the Well for speed and strength. The heel of her hand slammed into Roger’s chin. Shattered teeth shredded his lips as his head flew back. He was dead before he hit the ground. The arm holding the dagger never rose much higher than his waist.

  Astrid found some small measure of respect for the other mercenary, who managed to come a bit closer to her with his blade. She caught his right arm in a leverage hold, then twisted it until it snapped. Then, with the edge of her hand, she pulverized the side of his head. He gave his last breath to the dust of the Toll Road.

  Astrid turned to the guards and said. “Thank you for not resisting us. I really don’t like doing this kind of thing. But you see, I’m much better at it than you, so I do what I must. Rethink your lives and the work that you do.”

  Somewhere deep in the forest

  The bandit camp sat just off a hidden path beneath a jagged, black rock outcropping. It sat in a hollow by a creek between two higher mountain rises. The forest was thick enough to hide the smoke from a sizable bonfire that the bandits kept alive with dry hardwood.

  Astrid rode point on the return of another successful raiding party. Three horses behind her, the two-wheeled cart swayed precariously over the rutted trail.

  “Where did you learn to shoot a bow like that?” Astrid asked Gormer.

  The failed mystic had just snuck a few puffs off his opium pipe. He grinned at her through slitted eyes. “I was raised by rearick,” Gormer said.

  Astrid turned her shocked face to him and raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” Gormer said. “My family was killed by the remnant on our way to Arcadia.”

  “I’m sorry,” Astrid said.

  “Don’t be. I was very young. No more than two or three. I don’t know how I survived. The rearick did their best, but eventually, they couldn’t handle me, so they sent me off to live with the mystics when I was thirteen.”

  “What do you mean ‘they couldn’t handle you?’”

  “Well, I was a fucked up kid who grew into a fucked up adult,” Gormer laughed.

  “Ah… ” Astrid began. “You ever stop to think seeing your family killed might have skewed your perspective a bit?”

  “I told you I don’t remember that shit,” Gormer said. “Don’t even know why I told you that boo-hoo bullshit. Guess I got too high or something.” He put his heels into his horse and rode ahead to the camp.

  Woody met them in the clearing below the cliff with the leaders of two other tribes who had joined Astrid’s crew just a few days before.

  George was joined by Sally, a leader from the Southern District. They stuck around Woody for a couple of days to get accustomed to the area. Astrid had returned from a couple of successful raids. Each one impressed the new tribal leaders more.

  “Hello there, beautiful,” George said, with his ever-present mace resting on his shoulder.

  The spiked ball tapped him in the back as he walked over. Astrid began to wonder if he was a masochist as the spikes were very sharp and had to be poking through the light furs George wore.

  Everyone else was bundled up in multiple layers, but not George. He kept his thick arms bare and only his chest, abdomen, and head was covered against the cold early evening.

  “The days are getting shorter,” Astrid said. “But we’re making the most of them.” She ignored his flirtation. Early November brought the first evening frosts, but she was surprised there was still no snow.

  “We may be lucky to get a mild winter,” George replied. He came up to her as she got off her horse.

  “Good to see you,” he said, trying to recover from his lame attempt at flirtation.

  Astrid didn’t want to hurt his feelings. The toughest guys always seemed the most fragile in that department. It was clear he had a thing for her. Since she kicked his ass, he practically followed her around like a puppy dog—a very dangerous puppy dog.

  He just wasn’t Astrid’s type. She had no problem flirting with Vinnie because they were fast friends.Their playfulness was just clean fun that made their friendship stronger. They had an understanding.

  It was different with George. He was way too serious and his come-ons just felt needy.

  Astrid stuck out her hand and George grabbed it and pumped her arm. She clasped him on the forearm and gave a reserved smile that made George turn red.

  Oh, poor George, she thought. He was a good man, and she worked hard to not give him the wrong idea. She hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Thank you for letting us use your secure camp, Woody,” Astrid said.

  “My pleasure!” Woody beamed.

  Letting the other tribes use the camp was a major gesture. George knew where the place was, but he never got a formal invitation. Now that he was here, he and his people were on their best behavior.

  That meant they didn’t start too many fistfights and shared their liquor freely.

  Sally stepped up next. She was the leader of a tribe from the Southern District that was displaced by Compliance Officer Jank months ago. Her tribe was hurting, and she wasn’t exactly happy to need support from other tribes. Competition for resources was fierce in the forest. Astrid hoped to change that.

  “Sally,” Astrid said. The small woman fixed her with her large, brown eyes and gave a curt nod, setting her strong jaw.

  “Good haul,” Sally replied, looking at the wagon. “My people are ready for a raid.”

  Astrid paused. The statement was bold and was intended to make a point in front of the other tribe leaders.

  “Your people just got here,” Astrid replied, regretting the implication of her reply. She felt she should have chosen her words better.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Sally growled. “We’re strong and ready to go.”

  “I don’t doubt the strength of your people,” Astrid started to say.

  “What is it, then?” Sally shot back. “We’re not in someone else’s territory to do nothing but live off the haul of others.”

  “You’re welcome here,” Woody responded in a rare show of hospitality from one bandit to another. “You are guests here.”

  “Guests!” Sally spat. “We’re much more than that!” She rested her hand on her sword.

  George looked at Sally with a hungry, admiring smile. Astrid was grateful, that he used that smile on someone else for a change. Maybe this was Astrid’s way out.

  “It sounds like you have something in mind,” Astrid probed.

  “In fact, I do,” Sally replied. Scowling at George, who seemed undeterred. “Jank is taxing the villages extra to make up for his losses in this district.”

  “Once again, breaking the law,” Woody said, shaking his head. “The Protectors told the Elders up and down the Toll Road that their ‘special compliance me
asures’ would never tax one region to make up for the shortfalls of another.”

  Astrid couldn’t restrain herself. “For a bandit, you sure do know a lot about the law of this land.”

  Woody chuckled and beamed. “Well, I’m a professional. I have to know all about the laws I break. It’s only right.”

  The other bandit leaders found that funny as well. Even Sally had a good laugh at that one. “He’s right,” she said. “Compliance Companies are only supposed to operate within the bounds of their contracts. They’ve been doing this shit to the villages for years. I say we hit the pigfuckers down south, too.”

  “I don’t know,” Astrid said. “That’s expanding our reach a bit.”

  “Yeah,” Sally said. “So what? Same methods. You’ve shown us how hitting them and returning the illegal proceeds makes the villages real happy. If it works up here, it can work down there. For once in my life, I’m stealing shit to make things right. The villages look the other way when we return most of their tribute. Makes it that much easier for us to work.”

  “Steal from the lawless,” George said.

  “And give to the lawful,” Woody added.

  “Why does that sound familiar?” Astrid asked, trying to place where she had heard something like that before.

  “When did we become the ones doing right?” Woody asked.

  “Seems to me, the bandits have always done what they had to,” Astrid replied. “I mean, that doesn’t make everything right, but what else could you do?”

  Woody nodded his head slowly. “That’s about the size of it,” he said. “But we need to be careful about their response.”

  “Don’t let that stop us,” Sally said, getting defensive again.

  “Of course, not,” Woody said. “But we should expect something. We need to be ready.”

  “So far,” Astrid said. “It’s just been extra men.”

  “Jank’s men,” Woody said. “They’ve never faced coordinated, sustained raids like this.”

  “So, right now, they don’t know how to act,” Astrid said.