Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  Astrid and Tarkon plastered their backs against a two-cow stable and peeked around the corner. More bandits slipped out of the woods. Their stealth and swiftness impressed her greatly. They kept out of the sightlines of the mercenaries who now made a tight ring around the main house.

  “This plan kinda failed,” Astrid said. “But at least we know where they all are now.”

  “The plan was made by a drug-smoking, suicidal fool,” Tarkon said.

  “You left out crazy,” Astrid said. She noticed one of the guards had blood on his face.

  Gormer looked directly at Astrid. She was too far away to see the expression on his face, but it was clear he was looking directly at her. Somehow, he ended up in mercenary armor and carried their weapons.

  “I’m willing to admit I’ve underestimated this man,” Tarkon said.

  Gormer nodded his head once, then twice. On the third nod, he turned his fully loaded crossbow to the man next to him and shot him in the heart. The man dropped like a sack of cabbage.

  The failed mystic turned out to be fast with a blade. Four more men fell with blood spurting from their necks while Astrid and Tarkon hurtled toward the house. Gormer’s sneak attack had the men in the front of the house in a frenzy. The shock of bodies dropping so quickly gave Astrid the precious seconds she needed.

  Astrid drew from the Well with each running footstep. Strength and calm fury flooded into every muscle. She loosened her rope weapon as she ran and spun one end over her head. She released the line and the egg-shaped dart hurtled forward just as the man pulled his trigger.

  The dart shot out ten feet to shatter his forehead. The coil of rope at her waist unwound. She spun like a demonic ballerina as crossbow bolts hissed past. The Well let her see where the men aimed and how to avoid that aim.

  Pulling back on the rope made it wrap three times around her waist again as she slowed her spin. She was in their midst now. The egg darts flashed out to shatter faces, arms, and sternums.

  The rope wrapped around an arm holding a short sword. Astrid pulled the man in and broke his jaw with her elbow. As he fell, she swung the rope again, and it wrapped twice around his neck. When she whirled around to face the next man, the rope spun him like a top, a loud crack sounding out as his neck snapped.

  Tarkon hadn’t even used his pistols yet, instead going to work with the long daggers he kept in sheaths at the small of his back. His body bent and leaned in ways that seemed to defy gravity and human anatomy as he slipped between sword strikes to slice his enemies open.

  Gormer was in trouble. He had slashed the face of a man who lunged at him with a short sword while another merc came up behind him.

  Astrid lunged in to save him, but she knew it was too late. Only a bandit arrow that pinned the attacker’s head to the wall let Gormer live.

  “Whooo! Fuck me, that was close!” Gormer screamed with perverse glee as he picked up a crossbow and loaded it.

  BLAM! The first explosion rattled Astrid’s ribcage. Bone and gore splashed against her side as a mercenary beside her fell with his chest blown out. Tarkon turned his pistol to a merc running toward him from the other side of the house.

  By now, all the bandits were out of the woods and running through the village. Most of them had bows and arrows, but a few had stolen crossbows. The mercenaries were forced to retreat.

  A green streak launched from the roof and felled one of the few mercenaries who were too brave or too stupid to run.

  Moxy pulled her bloody claws from the dead man’s chest, then launched herself at another merc. Astrid heard the bandits taking out the mercs who ran from Astrid and the team.

  Moxy was a bit too slow. She had to dance back from a short sword that nearly split her in half. Where did that guy come from? Some enemies doubled back from their retreat. There was no safe place for them now.

  Moxy stumbled over the man she had just killed. Astrid was too far away to help, but Tarkon wasn’t. He lunged forward past Astrid and blasted the merc with a fireball that consumed him immediately.

  The front door of the house crashed open and four men with crossbows burst out and formed a line. They must have come through the house from the other side. No time to worry about that now, Astrid thought.

  Gormer shot one of them through the neck. The others were unfazed. They had selected a target. It was obvious it had been Tarkon they saw first as they each took aim on him. Tarkon was about to die.

  Astrid summoned energy and dove into the line of fire. Three bolts pierced her back through the thick, studded leather. She slid across the ground on her chest with blood bubbling and foaming from her mouth. They had pierced her lungs, but Tarkon was safe.

  “NOOOO!” Moxy screamed, the word barely recognizable as she launched herself at the crossbowmen.

  “Die, pigfuckers!” Gormer screamed as he went after the men with his short, thin blade.

  Astrid was already on her feet, but the blood spraying from her mouth trapped her words. She wanted to tell them she was OK.

  Two on three, she thought. Claws and a dagger against short swords. Shit!

  She tried to rush in, but the lack of oxygen made her dizzy. Energy from the Well kept her on her feet and alive, but she was no damn good.

  Two more explosions turned two mercenary heads into a red blooms of horror. Tarkon had more ammunition. Gormer and Moxy instantly pounced on the other man and took him down in a split second.

  Tarkon quickly made his way to Astrid and steadied her. “How are you still alive right now?” he asked with more emotion in his voice than Astrid had yet heard from him.

  She allowed Tarkon to hold her up while she bent down and squeezed the blood from her lungs with her diaphragm.

  She took in an agonizing breath. “The Well,” she wheezed.

  “Astrid, no!” Sally yelled, running up to her.

  “We got all of them, Astrid,” George said from behind Sally. He looked panicked. “Oh Gods, lay her down. Don’t worry, Astrid. We won’t let your death go unanswered.”

  Astrid grabbed George by the collar and pulled him close. “Shut the fuck up. Get these fucking bolts out of me!” she managed to wheeze through the agony.

  “Wha-what?” George said. He looked ready to faint.

  Astrid pushed him away and waved Gormer over. He walked up almost casually.

  “Push them through,” she said as she grabbed his armor with both fists. “Before I pass out.”

  “Do what now?” Gormer cocked his head and asked.

  “Cut the feathers off and push the bolts through. I’ll pull them out,” Astrid said. “Hurry, you fucking idiot.”

  Gormer chuckled. “This is a first. Hang on.”

  He sliced the feathers off the bolts while Astrid turned to Tarkon and gripped his shoulders to stay upright.

  “The one on the left,” Astrid groaned. “Angle it down so it misses my heart.”

  George had seen enough. His eyes rolled up and his knees gave out as he passed out. The bandits who weren’t busy securing the village gathered around to watch.

  Gormer worked fast. She felt the bolts moving around while he whittled them down. Her whole body shook. Veins on her arms and forehead pulsed and writhed like worms on a hot sidewalk.

  She didn’t scream when Gormer rammed the first bolt through the front of her chest just below her heart. Nor did she scream when the second came through a few inches to the right of that. The third one hurt just as bad when it came through just above her solar plexus. No scream then, either.

  Her black eyes went wild as she wrapped each hand around the first two spikes that had come through. It was impossible to take a deep breath with all the blood in her lungs, so she just pulled.

  They came out in one savage yank. She tossed them on the ground, then grabbed the third. It came out slower because she was about to drop, but she managed the feat with impressive strength. She did scream then, lifting her black eyes to the sky.

  She hung on to the final arrow as she dropped to her knees
with every muscle on fire. She wasn’t sure how long it took her to hack up enough gore from her lungs to take a decent breath and stand.

  When she finally got on her feet, she met faces full of everything from terror to awe to complete disbelief.

  She smiled as she steadied her swaying. “Woo! Damn. That was a lot of fun, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Everyone looked at her, their faces somewhere between shock and wondering if laughing at her humor was appropriate.

  Shaking her head, she decided to change topics. “Is everyone safe?” she asked.

  “We didn’t lose anyone,” Sally said. “Some injuries, though. Don’t know how bad.”

  Her lungs burned and itched as the Well repaired them, but she felt the energy begin to fade. She had never taken that much damage in combat before. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  She walked over to George, snorting as she pointed down at him. “Did he hit his head?” she asked, obviously amused.

  Gormer let out a gale of hysterical laughter. “Asked the woman who just pulled three crossbow bolts from her chest.”

  Astrid couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I’m trying to be the bigger man here and check on the ladies.” She winked. “Any of the mercs left alive?”

  “No,” one of the bandits said. “They didn’t want to be taken alive. Fought like hell.”

  “The family?” Astrid asked.

  The bandit looked sheepish. “We took out the bosses just in time. They would have killed all of them, the fucking animals. Unfortunately, the family panicked. Locked themselves in the basement. They refuse to come out.”

  That’s when Astrid heard muffled shouting. She hurried inside, where she found a crazy-eyed bandit in front of the thick basement door.

  “I fucking told you we’re not gonna hurt you!” the big man yelled. His sleeve was cut and his right arm was caked with blood. His face was bruised and puffy. Astrid immediately recognized him as a man still lost in battle adrenaline. She had seen it before.

  “What’s going on?” Astrid said in a mild voice.

  The bandit turned, and the sight of Astrid knocked him out of his frenzied mode. “Holy shit, your eyes…” he said with a gasp. “What the fuck happened to you, Astrid? Looks like you took a nap in a slaughterhouse.”

  “You look like you’ve been in the mix yourself,” Astrid said with an easy smile.

  “Heh,” was all the bandit managed.

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had time to learn all your names…”

  “Alvin,” the bandit said, slapping his chest.

  “Alvin, I have a job for you. Take these two guys—” she pointed at Alvin’s two companions, who seemed much calmer “—and find the Elder of this village. He might be in the stockade. They were whipping him. After that, get someone to look at your arm.”

  “Fuck my arm. I hate those assholes. I’m glad they're dead!” Alvin bellowed. “We killed the bosses. Fuckers almost killed us back.” Alvin rambled on and veins bulged in his neck.

  “Yeah,” Astrid said, casting a meaningful glance at the two much calmer, less-wounded bandits. “Great job. Your buddies here will help. I need you to make sure the guy is OK and bring him back here to his family in the basement. That’s your mission. You got that? It’s important. Only you can do that.”

  “I’m on it!” the man shouted and bolted from the house.

  Astrid was breathing easier now, but it was still difficult. She pulled a chair closer to the basement door and sat down heavily. She tapped lightly on the door.

  “Hello down there,” she called out with a calm, gentle voice. “Can you hear me?”

  “Just take what you want!” a woman’s voice called back. “Don’t hurt us.”

  Astrid sighed even though it burned. “My friends and I are here to help.”

  “You’re bandits! You killed those men!” the woman shouted back.

  “Yes,” Astrid replied. “We’re bandits. But we’re not going to hurt you. I’m pretty sure those other men were going to kill you all.”

  “Just go away,” the woman pleaded.

  “When we are sure you are safe, we certainly will,” Astrid said.

  “We’ll never be safe now. Jank’s men will punish us,” she called back, obvious fear in her crackled words.

  “No,” Astrid said, her voice dropping several octaves. “I mean to take care of Jank for good. I’ll give you the tools to protect yourselves while I’m working on that.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice now,” a voice said from the doorway.

  Astrid turned to find the village Elder flanked by bandits. He was shirtless, bruised and bleeding.

  “No,” Astrid said. “You don’t.”

  The Elder was proud. He walked painfully across his living room to the stairs. A minute later, he came back down wearing a tan shirt.

  “I believe you mean well,” the Elder said. He lifted the volume of his voice and said. “Did you hear that? Please come out. These people won’t hurt us.”

  A few seconds later, scraping and thumping sounded behind the door. A woman came out with three teenage girls and a young boy.

  “Where is my son?” the woman asked.

  “Safe,” Astrid said. “I’ll send for him.”

  “What happened to you?” the woman asked, eying Astrid’s condition.

  “I got in a fight,” she replied.

  20

  Leaving Bellford

  Burying the bodies was a terrible job. They did the work in a rotation field near the woods. Bandits and villagers alike worked together. They finished by putting up a quick and dirty fence around the field. The Elder declared it might be a few years until they used that ground again.

  Astrid tried to help, but was eventually defeated by Tarkon and Moxy, who urged her to rest while she healed. She compromised by working with a small group of villagers who cleaned up and arranged the body armor and weapons salvaged from the bodies. The equipment was too valuable to bury.

  It was also hard work convincing the bandits to leave the weapons and armor for the villagers. The compromise was that anyone who wanted the items would have to stay behind to protect Bellford. Seventeen bandits volunteered immediately. The next argument was about how to erase the coins and daggers insignia of Jank’s company.

  Astrid and her group had just finished their work. The villagers hurried away when George and Tarkon came up. They were still uneasy around these rough people who had saved them.

  It was decided that twenty bandits would stay behind while Astrid rode back with the scout and George along with a few bandits from George’s tribe. George had mixed feelings that a few of his people wanted to stay behind with Sally’s folks.

  On the one hand, it was positive that they wanted to work together. On the other hand, George would be separated from people he was close to.

  He masked his sentiment with hard words. “Once bandits get a taste for the soft village life, it’s hard to pry them away.”

  “They’re doing honorable work here,” Tarkon said. “Probably for the first time in their lives.”

  To George, that was a backhanded compliment. He just glared in response.

  “Can I get off invalid duty now, guys?” Astrid said.

  Tarkon fixed her with his usual dour stare while George shook his head.

  “You can do what you want,” George said. “But if you’re smart, you’d take it easy and rebuild your strength. That water magic or whatever the hell it is you use doesn’t make you immortal, as far as I can tell. Just makes you ridiculously hard to kill.”

  Astrid cringed at the reference to her art. “It’s called the Well, and it is available to all who seek it with a pure heart.”

  “Whatever,” George replied. “Everything has its limits.”

  Astrid couldn’t argue with that.

  “Day’s almost over,” George said. “We need to rest up, regroup—make a plan and head out at dawn tomorrow.”

  “We have a hard
ride ahead of us,” Tarkon said. “Jank’s mercenary force is no doubt in Keep 52 by now.”

  “I’d rather travel through the night,” Astrid said. She tried to mask the stabbing pain in her chest when she stood. It didn’t work.

  “I didn’t take you for a fool,” George said. “If you’re looking for me to convince you of what you need to do, I’m not the guy. You won’t be much use without some rest. That’s the truth. I don’t want to travel if everyone in my party isn’t fit to fight.”

  Astrid shot him an angry look. She knew he was right. “What can I say? You just found one of my flaws. I’m stubborn. You’re right. I surrender.” She sat back down.

  Several bandits came over and cleared the table.

  “Where are you taking that?” George asked.

  “Relax, boss,” one of the bandits said. Astrid recognized him as Alvin. “We got it all worked out. Didn’t even come to blows over it. When they come back, we’ll kill us some more and take their armor, too.”

  “You are a truly frightening man, Alvin,” Astrid said with no small amount of admiration.

  The big man grinned. “Not half as scary as you,” Alvin said.

  Astrid chuckled, then coughed up some chunks of dark red blood. “It’s OK,” Astrid said in response to lightly-masked looks of concern. “It’s old blood.”

  She didn’t see Gormer and Moxy come up. Moxy walked fast ahead of Gormer, who was obviously still very high. His eyes looked like brown pools in cups of blood.

  Astrid shook her head, and her jaw clenched. She had no idea how the magic he so misused didn’t kill him. He pulled up a chair, then rested his head on his folded arms over the table.

  “Food’s coming soon,” Gormer said. “This wood feels so nice.”

  Tarkon sneered at him and shook his head while Moxy sidled up to him.

  “That’s the second time you saved me,” she said.

  “All part of the fight,” he said.

  Some villagers brought over more long tables and put them end-to-end. They set out chairs, and bandits came over to sit. Sally joined them.

  “Must be forty chairs here,” Sally observed. “I guess some of the villagers don’t mind eating with us.”