Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  “I don’t think they spotted us,” one of the scouts said, jumping off his horse. He climbed a tree for better visibility.

  “Where are the others?” George asked in alarm.

  “They ran the other way. I told them to meet us back at Brown Creek,” the first scout said.

  “Brown creek?” Tarkon exclaimed. “That’s ten miles back the way we came.”

  “I figured you’d want to be leaving,” the scout said.

  The one up the tree hollered back down. “They’re coming!”

  “Who?” Astrid shot barked out in frustration.

  “All of them,” the tree scout said as he scrambled down.

  That’s when they heard the rumbling of many hooves. Their horses galloped in tight formation, four in a row. The lead horse carried a black pendant flag with the coins and daggers symbol of Jank’s Compliance Company.

  Astrid counted a hundred-twenty riders in all. They wore heavier armor than the rest of Jank’s troops and carried long swords, and every one of them carried a crossbow.

  “Elite troops,” Tarkon said. “They’re on a mission.”

  “No shit; that’s not good,” Sally said. ”Those are his highest-paid mercenaries. They usually guard the borders and do wetwork outside the Protectorate.”

  “Wetwork?” Astrid asked.

  “Assassinations, sabotage, kidnapping,” George answered. “The kind of fuckery even bandits don’t do.”

  “They’re heading north,” Astrid said. “Do you think they’re heading to Argan?”

  “Not straight away,” George said. “But I bet that’s their final stop.”

  “But where are they coming from? Jank’s main operation is on the other side of the District.”

  “They looked fresh,” George said.

  “Where’s the nearest village?” Astrid said with chills running down her spine.”

  Sally looked at George. They both shook their heads in unison, then turned to Astrid with hard faces.

  “Fuck you,” Sally said flatly. She wasn’t joking.

  “What? What’s up your ass?” Astrid said, setting her jaw.

  “You made me give a shit what happens to these villages,” Sally said.

  “That’s on you,” Astrid said. “Your fault for realizing what’s right. Also, you know you have the skillset to do something about it. So, shut the fuck up and lead the way.”

  “Bitch,” Sally said. She cursed more, but Astrid knew it was just a vent. She was scared for what they might find.

  George turned to the tree scout. “Go meet the other scouts. They’ll be better-rested while waiting for you. Tell them both to ride like their assholes are on fire. One goes to the hideaway, the other to Argan. Tell them to be ready for trouble. Once you send them off, I want you to meet them there and stay safe. No sense sending three on a dangerous errand. Go!”

  Sally tossed the scout another water skin and more food for his horse. The skinny man took off over the ridge.

  “What about me?” the other scout said.

  “Sorry, Wally,” George said. “You’re our crossbow fodder. We need you to ride up ahead and warn us if anyone’s coming.”

  “Warn you by not coming back, you mean,” Wally said.

  Astrid looked shocked before she realized it was a game between the two.

  “No,” George replied. “You’ll come back. Annoying little fucksticks like you always do. Get on it, then.”

  The worried look on George’s face contrasted with the ‘don’t give a shit’ tone.

  Tarkon moved his horse closer to Astrid. “Gormer is high,” he growled. “We should leave him.”

  “I thought about it,” Astrid said. “But we still need him.”

  Moxy listened in on the conversation closely and eyed Gormer with interest. “I may have something for him when we get back to camp,” she said.

  They set off down the trail to the Toll Road. They had no choice but to ride the main thoroughfare for a while until they found a side trail on the other side of the river. They crossed a rickety rope bridge one at a time. It slowed them down.

  The scout found them again, to their great relief. “No sign of more,” he said. “I’ve been a mile outside Bellford junction. Tracks of the main force are all outbound, but it looks like about twenty horses rode in and didn’t ride back out again.”

  “Wagon tracks?” Astrid asked.

  The scout shook his head.

  “They’re riding light.” Sally said. “Why?”

  Woody grit his teeth. “They’re trained to live off the land. They’re gonna take whatever they need wherever they go.”

  Standard strategy. They left the horses a distance from the woods and hiked in. The bandits didn’t need to be told. They split off wordlessly and circled the town.

  The setup was bad. Most of the town was higher than the woods that provided cover. Astrid ended up on the low side near a large creek. Upstream, a water wheel turned.

  “They have a grain mill here?” Astrid asked.

  “Yes,” Sally hissed. “I’ll take you on an extended fucking tour, and we can get some fresh pancake mix. What the fuck are we doing?”

  Astrid nearly laughed. Sally was really wound up. This was far from the first stealth mission Astrid had been on. Sally was used to lying in wait for caravans. She wasn’t accustomed to the thought of having to raid what might be a garrison of hardened troops.

  “Relax,” Astrid said. “Follow my lead.”

  They belly-crawled up the bank from the creek, then slipped between two outbuildings. Cows provided cover, but the smell was not so nice. A few feet away, one of Jank’s mercenaries walked by with a crossbow cradled in his arms. It was hard to hide in broad daylight, but the outbuildings provided good cover.

  They slipped back between the buildings and came out on the other side to get a good look at the rest of the village.

  The scout was right. Astrid counted about twenty men stationed around. It was quiet. The villagers went about their work casting wary eyes at Jank’s men.

  One of the cows decided it was time for a lay down and a cloud of straw dust billowed out. Astrid locked eyes with Sally’s suddenly red and watering eyes. She shook her head and fought against a sneeze.

  Astrid reached out in a flash and pinched Sally’s nose just above the tip. Sally blinked twice and deflated. The urge to sneeze went away. Another mercenary neared, and they both ducked back behind the building.

  “I’ll remember that the next time I have to sneeze,” Sally said quietly when the guard passed by.

  Slipping back down the hill, they circled around closer to the single road that entered the village. The ground was higher there, and when they belly-crawled up to the edge of the woods, they had a clear view of the town center.

  “What is that?” Sally spoke in a low voice.

  From their vantage point by the stables, Astrid hadn’t noticed the wooden object in the town square. Now that Sally pointed it out, Astrid’s blood went cold.

  “It’s a stockade,” Astrid said.

  Seconds later, as if on queue, three goons dragged a stumbling, shirtless man to the stockade and locked him up. They heard him groaning.

  Another man came over with a leather whip. Sally and Astrid ducked back into the forest to the sounds of leather on skin.

  Astrid loosened her shoulders and adjusted the rope slung over them and looped around her waist.

  “It’s about time I used this,” she said, touching the rope.

  “How the hell do you fight with a damn rope?” Sally asked.

  Astrid just smiled in response.

  They took cover when they heard multiple footsteps approach. Whoever it was wasn’t being careful.

  Astrid jumped out from cover when she found George and another of his crew dragging a terrified villager between them.

  “What the fuck have you done?” Astrid hissed.

  “What?” George said. “We saw him near the treeline so we grabbed him. Figured you’d want to
talk to him.”

  The young man shook with fear.

  “Just relax,” Astrid said. “We’re here to help.”

  ‘H-help?” the trembling teen said. “You snatched me. You’re bandits. What are you doing here?”

  “We’re here to teach these fuckers a lesson,” Astrid said.

  “No,” the kid said. “They’ll just send more. Just let them do their jobs, and they’ll go away.” The man at the stockade screamed and the young villager nearly collapsed. “Father.” He sobbed.

  “That’s your dad?” George said. “And you let them take him like that?”

  “How could I stop them?” the boy asked.

  Astrid shot George a withering glare. She took a deep breath and lifted the kid’s chin with her thumb and index finger. “Look at me.” With their eyes locked, she said. “Once we take these fuckholes out, you’ll have all their weapons. If they try to come back, you fill them full of crossbow bolts.”

  “I’m not a fighter,” the boy said.

  “You’ll learn,” Astrid said. “How many are there?”

  “Ninteen,” the boy said.

  “What the fuck,” George said. “You were about to piss your pants a second ago. Now you call out ‘nineteen’ sure as counting your testicles.”

  “I counted them,” the boy said, suddenly nervous again. “I count things a lot.”

  “This is a weird kid,” George said.

  “Did you count where they were?” Astrid prodded.

  The boy nodded his head.

  “And… ” Astrid said, making a circle with her hand.

  “Oh,” the boy replied. “Four by the gates at the road, five were walking around the village, two are at my house, two are with the blacksmith, and two are with the horses.”

  “That’s fifteen. You’re missing some,” George said.

  “Oh. The leader and three others are whipping my dad right now.”

  “Why are they doing that?” Gormer asked.

  “He asked them to show him paperwork for the extra tribute. They said he was obstructing their work. They say they can take over the town now and punish people any way they want.”

  “Where is your house?” Astrid asked with a sinister grin.

  The boy pointed to the largest house near the town center. It was the only two-story dwelling. The house stood at the center of a c-shaped configuration of buildings that made up the village. It was surrounded by outbuildings and several other smaller houses with a couple dozen feet between them.

  “Who else lives there?” George said.

  “My three sisters, my mother, and my younger brother,” the boy said.

  George took a breath. “Who is in the house now?”

  “Everyone but me and my dad,” the boy said.

  “You ain’t all there, are you kid?” George asked.

  The boy looked down at his arms, squinted, and cocked his head. “Are you drunk?” the boy asked.

  “What?” George asked, exasperated.

  “You’re hallucinating if you don’t see all of me.”

  Astrid cocked her head. The boy did seem a bit off. He didn’t seem to respond to expressions and sarcasm seemed to go right over his head.

  “You better wait in the woods,” Astrid said. “Are they expecting you at home?”

  “No,” the boy said. “The bad men don’t pay much attention to me. I usually go study things in the woods around this time.”

  “Watch him,” Astrid said to the two bandits with George. “Keep him safe.”

  The two men nodded.

  “What’s the plan?” Tarkon asked.

  Astrid studied Tarkon intensely. “Can you keep yourself from blowing people apart until the time is right?”

  Tarkon gave a rare smile that, instead of producing levity, gave Astrid chills. “I can try,” he said. “But I usually don’t exercise restraint in times like this.”

  “Fuckin’ psycho,” Gormer said. He sniffed and wiped his nose.

  “What about you, hop head?” Astrid said to Gormer. “Are you sober enough to fight?”

  “I’m not a fighter,” Gormer said. “I’m a lover.” He roped his arm around Moxy, who happened to be standing next to him.

  The pixie growled like a housecat and her long, white claws grew from the tips of her fingers.

  Astrid stepped between the two. She gathered Gormer up by the shirt and pushed him back against a tree.

  “Mmm, you’re firm,” Gormer slurred as Astrid pressed him into the trunk. She slapped him hard across the face. “Fuck, OK, OK… ” he stammered. “I’m here, I’m here.”

  “Leave him,” George said. “He’s in no condition to—”

  Gormer’s eyes turned white and glowed, and a trickle of blood streamed down his right nostril.

  George jumped back and raised his mace high above his head. Astrid could tell he stifled a scream.

  “He’s a were!” George said.

  Astrid had to let Gormer go to keep George from smashing Gormer’s skull with his spiked mace.

  “It’s an illusion!” Astrid said.

  Gormer stumbled away from the tree laughing. “I can still do what needs to be done,” he mumbled. “Let’s go.”

  “OK,” Astrid said. “Here’s the plan.”

  19

  Southern District, Village of Belford

  “I’m so fucking bored right now,” Gormer said, rolling his eyes. “And I can’t listen to that poor dumb fuck get whipped anymore. It’s killing my buzz.”

  They had been debating the plan for several minutes, far longer than Astrid hoped. Sally and George turned suddenly oppositional, arguing over every detail. The problem was that there were a lot of moving parts. They had twenty-five bandits waiting in the woods surrounding the camp who all needed to know what was going on.

  “Once you dipshits decide what to do, I’ll reach out telepathically to a few of the bandits to let them know the plan,” Gormer offered.

  “Even though that might kill you?” Astrid said. “Every time you try using magic, your brains fall out of your nose.”

  “Especially because it might kill me. I hate being bored. Just figure it out,” Gormer declared.

  “Here comes one of them!” Sally observed.

  They all ducked down behind the brush or plastered their backs against the trees. Everyone except Gormer. His eyes glowed white and his nose ran with blood. Astrid was too busy staying out of sight to notice him before he started walking toward the mercenary.

  Everyone froze. Gormer walked steadily up to the man, who suddenly smiled, then squatted down. “What’s a little kitty doing here? Come here. I won’t hurt you. I wish I had a treat for you.”

  The man stroked an imaginary cat and chuckled. The spectacle of a cold-blooded killer being nice to an imaginary cat felt to Astrid like a fever dream.

  Gormer walked around behind him, bent down slowly and carefully brought his arm around the man’s neck. The soldier snapped out of it when Gormer suddenly tightened his arm and began choking.

  After two painful-looking elbows to Gormer’s ribs, the man stopped moving, and his face turned purple. Gormer dragged the dead man back into the woods and hid the body.

  “What the fuck good is that going to do?” Sally hissed. “We have to do something now before they notice him missing.”

  “I know,” Gormer said. “That’s the whole point. I already told some of the others what the plan was.” He turned to George. “Some of your men have truly dirty minds. The things you find when you wander around somebody’s head… ”

  “Stop fucking around,” Astrid said with a clenched jaw. “What are we doing?”

  “Moxy’s about to go invisible and use those mice in her pouch to panic the horses,” Gormer said.

  “They’re snacks,” Moxy said. “How did you know I had mice?”

  “First,” Gormer said. “Fucking gross. Second, I want to see you strip.”

  Moxy’s pale face turned red, then her skin shimmered. Where she stood,
it looked like an empty set of clothes hovered in the air. “Asshole,” she said, and her clothes fell to the ground.

  “Damn,” Gormer said. “You didn’t strip first. Oh well. Make the horses panic, then we’ll use the distraction to slip between the buildings unnoticed. I’ll pretend to be this guy and take out as many guards as I can.”

  “So, we’re killing all these guys?” Astrid asked.

  “If you’ve seen what I’ve seen from them,” Gormer said. “You wouldn't be asking me that question. These fuckers have to go. I’ve been in their heads. Psychos, every last one of them.”

  The sound of faint running footsteps and phantom footprints in the moss told Astrid that Moxy was on the way.

  “I guess we’re doing this,” Sally said.

  “I’m in contact with Moxy,” Gormer said. He brought a rag from his pocket and held it to his streaming nose as his eyes glowed.

  “Gormer, this might kill you,” Astrid said with real concern.

  “What a fucking relief that would be,” Gormer said. “I hope the illusion holds.” He walked into the field directly toward a group of mercenaries. They showed no signs of agitation as he approached.

  “He’s going to get us killed,” Tarkon said as he followed Astrid to the nearest building. “He’s suicidal. Doesn’t give a shit about anything.”

  “Wrong,” Astrid said. “He just cares in the wrong way.”

  Seconds later, horses screamed and broke free of the coral. Mercenaries ran toward them, while the others formed a wide ring around the main house where their boss was holed up.

  “Shit,” Astrid said. “We have to take them on directly, now.”

  “No problem,” Tarkon said. He showed a toothy grimace-grin and pulled his pistols from his belt.

  “Now who’s suicidal?” Astrid asked. “Follow me. We’ll come at them from those buildings over there.” She pointed to a set of outbuildings nearest the Elder’s house. “That will give us a chance to get close before we go toe-to-toe.”

  They sprinted from building to building as bandits slinked from the woods and took cover behind anything they could. The villagers ran from their workplaces and hid in their dwellings, in barns and outbuildings. Some even hid in piles of straw.