Wizard Pair (Book 3) (6 page)

"I don't want to go."

"What are you going to do? Stay here and farm all on your own?"

"I don't know."

"You're coming with me. I'll find someone to take care of you once we get there. I'll try to get someone to take you in. Most folks prefer to take in boys, but they may make an exception for you. You don't have any relatives around here that would take you in, do you?"

"No, not around here. My aunt lives in the town near the castle. Maybe she'll take me in."

"We'll have to find her, then. Tomorrow morning we get started." Zhimosom continued to tear the flesh from the fowl, stuffing it into his mouth even as he talked. He was hungry from the day's labor, and tired. He just wanted this day to end.

The next morning, Zhimosom and Brill set off for the castle. They walked all day before rounding a low hill that hid the town. The castle stood stark in contrast to the natural rock outcrop that elevated it above the gently rolling hills.

The town sprawled out from the base of the castle walls. The stone-walled houses were universally roofed with dry, dirty and tattered thatch. Smoke drifted from every chimney, mingling together as it rose to join the cloud of gray haze that hung over the city and castle alike.

"It doesn't look very friendly, does it?" Zhimosom prompted Brill as she stared at it with wide eyes.

"Have you been there before?" The young girl grasped at his arm and pulled him back, almost as if she unconsciously wanted to restrain him from entering the town.

"I was here twice with my father. We came once for the birth celebration of his brother's firstborn, and once to buy blades for the scythes and a new ax head.

"It was quite a while ago, but I remember it well. The town was crowded with all sorts of folk. We made our way to the market, bought what we needed and departed immediately. My father never liked the town. He told me everything we needed was on the farm, save the blacksmith shop.

"He said there was trouble for the unwary in town. Trouble you can't get into out on the farm. I never understood what he meant by that."

"Do we have to go there?" Brill pulled at this arm, bringing him to a halt this time.

"Yes, we do." Zhimosom patted her hand and gently removed her fingers from around his arm. "I need to find work so we can eat, and we need to find your aunt, or some other nice family who would be willing to take you in."

"Can't I stay with you?" Brill hugged him. She shook with fear, her arms clutching him tightly.

He stroked her hair. "I can't take care of you. I don't even know how I'm going to take care of myself yet. But, until I find you a home, I'll look after you."

She looked up at him with glistening eyes, blinking back the tears. "Promise?"

"I promise." Zhimosom took her by the hand and pulled her along as he started for the town once more.

"Come on," he said. "We need a place to sleep before nightfall. It would be nice to find something to eat if we can. The cheese is almost gone."

Zhimosom and Brill pushed their way through the crowded streets. They were not the only refugees in town. People jammed the streets. Some pulled carts piled with their meager possessions, and others carried stuffed packs. Underfed and sickly looking animals were tied behind carts or were pulled by children or the aged.

Zhimosom led the way to the market, shoving between folk who seemed to stand wherever they had been when they finally gave up hope. Refugees crowded against the barrier that had been hastily erected around the otherwise open market. They were dirty, unwashed. They wore ragged clothes that were smudged with smoke and stained by ash.

Some of them carried bags of provisions, others nothing. None of them carried a purse or wore any jewelry that could be used for trade. They pressed the barrier crying out, but Guards had been stationed around the perimeter, barring their way.

A young woman held her hand out to the Guard, begging. "Please, my children are starving. Please let me have just one loaf of bread. Just one loaf of stale dry bread."

The Guard looked cross with her. "Show me your coin."

She extended her empty hand once more. "I have none. Please. My children."

The Guard thrust the butt of his spear at her, knocking her on the shins. She crumbled to the ground in pain.

The Guard kicked at her. "Come back with coin. No beggars allowed."

He turned to Zhimosom. "Halt."

The Guard held out his spear, blocking Zhimosom's path. "What brings you to the market? What coin do you have or what goods do you trade?"

"I ... I have none." Zhimosom searched his person mentally, looking for something, anything, that he could claim as a trade good. He wished he had kept the scythe blade he had worked in the fields. A nice shiny blade like that would fetch a few coppers, maybe even a silver.

Brill released Zhimosom's hand, ducked beneath the Guard's spear and quickly disappeared into the market.

"Hey, come back!" Zhimosom started after her, but the Guard barred his way. He drew out a whistle and blew three short blasts. Immediately, more Guards appeared as if out of nowhere. They grabbed Zhimosom by the arms.

"Where did she go? Where was she headed?" they demanded.

"I don't know." Zhimosom struggled, but they held him fast. "I just met her yesterday. Her family was killed. I told her I would take her here, to town, so she could find her relatives."

He twisted and tried to break free until one of the Guards jabbed him in the gut with the blunt end of his spear.

"Thieves work in pairs," the first Guard said. "She's probably your sister, trained to steal while you occupy the Guards. We've seen more than enough of your kind lately."

The Guard grabbed Zhimosom by the chin and raised his head to look him in the eyes. "Last chance."

"I don't know where she is," Zhimosom pleaded.

The Guard let go of his chin and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. Pain shot through Zhimosom and he spat out blood.

"Bind him and take him to the gaol," the Guard said. "Once the headsman returns, we'll take off his hand."

Take off his hand! Zhimosom struggled, but it didn't matter. The Guards were too strong. The larger one jabbed him again, taking the wind out of him. He bound Zhimosom’s hands behind his back.

"Come on, you. Don't make me carry you all the way to the castle." The Guard grabbed Zhimosom by the ear and turned him towards the street that lead to the castle.

Zhimosom struggled to catch his breath as they shoved him along the street with their spears.

Priests and Wizards

"Stop this nonsense." The Baron stood and extended his hand to the Wizard. "Clearly, you have power. Why is it that you chose to help us against King Omrik? Surely he would pay a high price to have a Wizard such as you in his employ?"

"I care not for the King," the Wizard said. "Nor he for me, I fear."

The Baron laughed and sat back down on his ornate throne. Rotiaqua knew the King was even more dead set against Wizards and magic than her father. It was no surprise this Wizard had received a poor welcome at the King's hand.

"No, he does not," the Baron said. "Why should I listen to you instead of having you executed for your insolence?"

The Wizard approached the throne, took to his knee in supplication, and bowed deeply. "My Lord, all I ask is official recognition for Ran and for his priesthood. Nothing more, just a haven for worship where the faithful can gather."

"If I recognize your god and grant you liberty to practice your religion in my land, then you will defend me from the King's armies?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Nothing more?" The Baron laughed. Rotiaqua watched with a skeptical eye. She felt the magic emanating from the Wizard. It was muddy, as if it was a mixture of different types of magic, not pure and clear like her own.

"Nothing more, My Lord."

"Rise then ... What is your name, Wizard?"

"My Lord, I am called Sulrad."

"Well, Sulrad. If you can do as you say, I will grant you the freedom you request of me, but first you must prove yourself."

"As you wish, My Lord." The Wizard bowed his head low and started to back out of the audience chamber.

"Not so quick, Wizard. I need a reliable witness. You will take my daughter with you so she can report back to me what you do. You will protect her with your life. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, My Lord."

The next day Sulrad sent word to the Castle that he had located the village where the King's men would attack. Rotiaqua called her Guards and a small squad of soldiers and rode out with the Priest. It took half of the morning to reach the village where Omrik's men were supposed to be headed.

The King's men were working their way along the border towns on her father's land, burning and killing just as they'd said they would. It wasn't hard to determine the next town they would attack. Rotiaqua was not impressed with the Wizard's powers of divination.

Sulrad set up camp on a hill overlooking the town. The stone-walled houses below were topped with sparse thatch roofs. Smoke trickled form chimneys as the townsfolk carried on with the business of harvesting and stockpiling the crops.

A rickety wagon stuttered down the dusty lane behind a pair of oxen; the oxen were being driven by a child.

The wagon made its way to a field almost at the extent of her vision. The wagon stopped, and the occupants piled out. They attacked the wheat with their scythes and sickles. The tall waving stalks of grain fell methodically before their labor.

The child who had been driving the wagon joined another in the task of gathering the grain into sheaves, tying them up, and standing them in the field like soldiers at attention in a ragged line. They made quick work, cutting a wide swath that quickly stretched to the low rock wall that marked the extent of this particular field. They turned and headed back towards her, just as quickly felling the golden stalks.

They had half the field harvested before the blare of a distant horn pierced the silence. The farmers perked up at the sound and ceased their labor. They gathered together, forming a solid mass with extended forks and scythe blades.

A dozen men galloped down the lane towards the assembled farmers, dust filling the air behind them. They flew a banner bearing the King's crest. Rotiaqua turned to the Wizard and called out. "Here they come."

Sulrad rushed down the hill to the dirt lane ahead of the knot of farmers. He stood in the middle of the dusty road, arm outstretched to halt the advancing army.

"In the name of Ran, I order you to stop and leave this land," he shouted.

The lead soldier reined his horse to a stop as he reached the Wizard. The soldier remained seated and settled his horse as his men stopped behind him.

"In whose name?" the soldier asked.

"In the name of Ran, on behalf of Baron Rieck, I command you to leave this land and its people and return to your King."

"I don't know no Ran." The soldier pulled his sword from its scabbard and held it high. "In the name of King Omrik, I command you to step aside or be run through where you stand. We are meting out the just punishment that the King has decreed."

The soldier shook the reins and his horse stepped closer to the Wizard.

"I am warning you. Leave now, while you still can, or face the wrath of Ran." Sulrad held out his hand and a fireball like the one that Rotiaqua had witnessed before materialized. It floated just above his outstretched palm. The ball turned a deep violet, spinning and spitting sparks. It was soon so bright, she could not look directly at it.

Power emanated from Sulrad. A violet haze seemed to enfold him in its embrace, extending out from the Wizard to the men on horseback. Rotiaqua felt the surge of power as Sulrad let the fireball loose. It flew straight and struck the lead rider. The man, horse and attendant equipment vanished in a bright sparkle of light, to be replaced by a shiny cloud of ash that quickly floated away in the afternoon breeze.

The next horseman didn't wait for a challenge; he raised his sword and charged Sulrad. The soldier flashed through the dissipating cloud of ash that had been his comrade as he bore down on the Wizard.

The soldier swung his sword.

Rotiaqua felt the power as the sword impacted the violet light surrounding the Wizard. It was almost as if the sword had hit her flesh, so forceful was the impact, but it was blunt and turned away easily. Sulrad followed the attack with another fireball. This one materialized in the air half way between his outstretched hand and the soldier, who vanished in a flash of light and a cloud of ash, just as his commander had.

Sulrad dispatched several more soldiers before the remnants turned and galloped off the way they had arrived. Sulrad approached the farmers and spoke to them, but his words were soft and they did not carry to her perch on the hill. The farmers all bowed their heads to the ground in front of the Wizard as he held his arms outstretched towards them.

Rotiaqua and Sulrad rode back to the castle at a hurried pace. Rotiaqua tried to avoid the Wizard as much as possible. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. He spent most of his time preaching to the soldiers about his god Ran.

Rotiaqua had little interest in religion. Her father said it was a waste of time; that the gods had died out well before the time of the dragons, and had been gone for a millennium. She didn't think this new god, Ran, was real; it seemed to her that he was just a story the Wizard made up to try and impress ignorant folk.

She felt his Wizard’s power though, even when he wasn't using magic. It emanated from him as a slight violet light that constantly surrounded him.

When they reached the castle, Sulrad proceeded immediately to the audience chamber. Rotiaqua headed to her quarters and ordered her maid to draw a bath. She'd spent more time out in the dusty, dirty countryside than she wanted and couldn't wait to get cleaned up.