“Are you even listening? We’re not talking about a simple man! The Dawn Star was a legend, and legends don’t die like that!”
Evandro's eyes shot open under his arm. He caught his breath, and his senses suddenly tensed at once.
“Think about it. We spent years burrowed in the shadows like rabbits running from a fox, and now we’re rising again! We’re needed, and not just as foragers to a gang in such a bad shape to even peek out of their lair!”
“Dream on, boy…”
Evandro tried to steady his heart. Who were these people? Outlaws suddenly didn’t sound like a good definition. And the Dawn Star was dead, as was their king. He’d made sure to disappear, there was no reason to think anyone could have believed any differently.
“The First Knight of prince Eliodoro, and of good old king Stelio before him. Flame in his hair, ice in his eyes, the sun himself bowed in awe when the Dawn Star bared his blade. Steel sang in mirth when he wielded it, and he never lost a single duel in his whole life.”
“Sure. Except for the only one that mattered. You know, when he needed to save our king and the whole land and he didn’t?”
True enough. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood on his tongue. A silent prayer buzzed in his head: Leave me be. Let me be dead. I’m not a knight and I’ve never been a hero. I’m a failure and a fraud.
“The king succumbed to the siege, I’ll give you that, but lord Evandro followed his orders until the very end. It takes some real courage to go against your own heart, and thanks to him we still have hope, we still have the…”
“Enough with this nonsense,” barked the deep voice Evandro had heard before. “She won’t thank us if all we bring back is fairytales and gossip.”
The couple fell silent, and Evandro couldn’t suppress a surge of gratitude. The cart was slowing down, and the chatter grew louder.
“Unload them. And Ampelio, prove me you’re not a complete waste of space and wake the stranger up,” barked the same man.
“Me? Why me? I’m not a roughneck, I’m…”
“... a kid who talks too much. Save your tales for the campfire and do as I ask.”
The cart halted, and before the horses were done relieving themselves, the boards jumped. Evandro stood motionless as his unwilling companions were dragged from his side; the captain couldn’t keep quiet about it.
“Do you realize this is worse than high treason, don't you? You’re in trouble… in more trouble, if that’s what I think it is,” she added sharply.
Evandro peeked from his arms. The man who replied, that with the deep voice, had black hair and a scruffy beard. He pushed the captain forward with a thick arm.
“A noose is a noose. And it’s all for you, lady knight,” he added with a tinge of mocking in his tone.
“I thought we were going to take them to the main camp. For--I don’t know, ransom? Killing sounds like an awfully drastic solution, and I’m not sure she would approve.” The young man named Ampelio jumped on the cart, and Evandro waited for him to approach.
“It’s gonna be alright, and we’ll rid the world of some more Asares’ pets. Is that man dead already?”
“I don’t know--hey, my shabby friend, you’re still among the living, aren’t you?” and he poked Evandro in the side. “You’re a little too warm for a corpse, I think.” And he poked once more, harder this time.
“Do it again, and I’ll make sure to snap your fingers one by one before I’m hanged,” Evandro snarled, sliding his arms from his face. In doing so he carefully brushed his hair in front of his eyes--if that Ampelio was looking for a ginger man with blue eyes, better not give him any hint.
“Ah, here you are. I must say you picked a very bad day to do business with the Asares.”
The lithe man in front of him was in his twenties, with a sharp face and smooth blond hair shadowing his dark eyes. His mouth was thin, and set in a worried line that contradicted his cheerful tone.
“Business with the… what are you talking about?” Evandro asked as Ampelio helped him sit up, causing a new wave of aches in his muscles.
“I think you weren’t intended as part of the bust, but here you are. I’m sorry--unless you’re their friend, then I’m not that sorry anymore.” Ampelio was very willing to help, but Evandro pushed him away.
“Why that?”
“What? Oh, apart from having invaded our land, enslaved every mage kid in sight--no, sorry, it’s indenture and not slavery,” Ampelio added, glaring at the Asares soldiers, “only to give those poor people back when they’re too exhausted to live? Look around, and you’ll see what’s left of those mages--angry, powerless men. Then there’s the fact that they seized every single book in Epidalio, because come on, ruling an uneducated country is so much easier, isn’t it? And now they’re sacking our villages. For sport.”
“It’s a royal decree!” the captain snarled. Ampelio ignored her.
“Anyway, stranger, it really looks like there’ll be no trial. I know one thing or two about how bad it can be to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and… well. You were.”
“Or maybe he’s just an Asares’ inside man.” The black-haired guy came forth and grabbed Evandro by the front of his shirt. “Move along. We don’t have all day.”
“Come on, Ram. You’re not that ruthless...usually.” Ram. The man sounded like the boss of this ragged band of rebels, and Evandro looked beyond Ampelio to check on him. Ruthless indeed, but he meant business. Epidalio was still fighting under the surface.
“They burned my brother’s farm. He has three kids to care for, and his husband died in the Slaughter. They took me when I was seventeen, and when I returned I couldn’t even make a single spark. I ran out of patience and mercy eight years ago.”
“It’s alright,” Evandro said in a whisper. “I know what he means.”
Ampelio cocked an eyebrow at him and shrugged. “Well, you seem peculiarly unbothered by your imminent fate, and it’s probably all because of that bump on your head. Here, let me…” The young man fumbled around Evandro's wrists, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “You’re not going anywhere, and your hands are turning purple. If you’re to die, at least it will be a more comfortable business.” He undid the rope, and when he looked up, Evandro closed his eyes.
“Better?” Ampelio asked.
“You’re very considerate. I’m going to hang from a tree before morning, kid, this was uncalled for.”
“You’re not one of them. I can see it.”
And something, in Ampelio's voice, touched a chord inside the ruins of Evandro's soul. His heart skipped a beat as the words carved their way inside him, deeper and warmer than they were supposed to be. A good voice, Evandro had thought at first. Now the plain whisper had a different color, layered, supernatural. The color of magic?
But he’s young enough to fall under the Zafirian conscription law. How did he escape it? He can’t be a mage. What kind of trick is this?
Despite his best intentions, Evandro blinked and looked Ampelio in the eye.
His new acquaintance was smiling subtly, but his face went blank the moment their eyes locked. His mouth opened slowly, his eyebrows lowered and his pupils blew wide.
“I’m… I’m just…” His voice was back to normal, and soon his grin returned in place. His cheeks looked a little paler, though. “Oh, don’t mind me. I just can’t help being a nice person, I’m with these guys to keep away from those other guys down there,” and he pointed at the soldiers with his thumb. “Overall, you could say I’m just looking for a good tale to tell. I’m not that special, really.”
“I never said you were,” Evandro grumbled, moving away from him. Now that his hands were free he could think of grabbing a sword--they’d left them in a pile with the armor at the other side of the bare expanse they’d cleared in the woods.
And then what?
Ampelio took his arm to guide him forward. At the overly familiar touch Evandro recoiled and snarled.
“I can walk,” he hissed, and Ampelio raised his hands.
“That, and something more, I daresay… could you join the others, there?” he asked. He pointed to the soldiers, tied at the base of a large birch tree. “Er… I’m afraid I’ll have to tie your hands again. Ram is giving me The Look, and brawling is not my strongest suit.”
“Whatever,” Evandro said, but he barely paid any attention to the words. He was more drawn to Ampelio's voice, and how common it sounded now. He could almost feel the sizzling touch of power crawling up his arms, and the skin where his ring used to be prickled.
He let Ampelio wrap the rope around his wrists again, loose enough not to hurt but not so much he could wriggle himself free. A good knotting job, he thought.
Obediently, Evandro walked to the Asares soldiers and slumped with his back against the birch. The man at his side had greying hair and sideburns, and his left eye was so swollen he couldn’t open it.
“Stop playing nice, boy. You’re all smiles and nice words, and then guess who’ll stand by and look as they kick the stool from under our feet!”
“Not my choice, good man. And I never said I agreed with Ram’s methods…” Ampelio flattened the shock of golden hair on his brow and gave Evandro one last look.
“But you’ll stand idle anyway! Traitor, as all of…”
The man groaned. Evandro peeked to his side: the captain, despite her bruises, seemed untouched by the discussion, and her heel was still on her companion’s foot.
Ampelio, oblivious of this all, shrugged again and looked at the rest of the gang.
“I think I’ll go. They need help to set up camp, and maybe Ram can be reasoned with. Partially, at least…”
Evandro knew he was trying to catch his look again, but he kept his face stubbornly low, and eventually Ampelio left.
The camp buzzed with activity. There was a fireplace to set, a cart to move under the thicker tree at the bottom of the clearing, a sturdy oak with a branch that could very well serve as the gallows. The teen boy he’d seen from the cart was gently brushing the Asares horses, feeding them fodder and small apples from his pocket.
Another man in front of Evandro was dividing a coil of rope in five sections, grinning at the prisoners.
Evandro clenched his jaws against a shiver. Fear? Not exactly; he didn’t fear death anymore, and not even the thought of leaving this world as a nameless bastard and not the knight he used to be caused him any pain. But there was something. The beginning of a plan, the reluctant hope to change the future.
These people had lost everything to the Asares--their families, probably; their magic, their best years.
He squared his shoulders and listened. In the dusk, he counted thirteen people in total; two sturdy spotted horses for the cart, and four elegant steeds taken from the soldiers. Tall black animals, with furry legs and long tails.
“What’s happening?” the soldier behind him hissed, and Evandro turned to spy him behind the shock of his dirty hair. The man, though, was not talking to him, but to his captain.
“Be quiet, Barnabas,” the woman said. Her voice was flat, her eyes lidded.
Barnabas, unhappy as he was with being silenced, was apparently very used at taking orders, because he grimaced but didn’t say a word.
Evandro held his breath when the echo of magic power rippled his skin again. Faint, even fainter than Ampelio had been. Unmistakable.
He checked on the man tying nooses some ten feet in front of them, but the stranger was unbothered, too taken by his task to care.
He took his chance and looked at the captain again. Angry and battered as she was, she seemed remarkably more at ease than when they’d been captured, or even taken from the cart. The rest of her team, even Barnabas, now, shared her composure.
They’re up to something.
Not a suspect, a calm certainty. Evandro looked at his worn out boots and tried to put his brain on a leash.
What are we waiting for? The outlaws, the soldiers…
But for hours nothing happened. The camp came to life with the smell of roasted meat from a sinewy beast on a spitfire, and someone asked for music. After some protest, Ampelio agreed to sing.
Again, Evandro was drawn to the sound. A rich, in tune voice, sprinkled with enough magic to render the whole company silent. He would’ve been impressed, if only the kid weren’t so determined to sing about the Dawn Star and his heroic quests…
“Fools,” the captain said.
“Why?” He wasn’t really interested in making conversation, but anything was a good distraction from Ampelio's song. He’d had enough of his own legends already.
“They all think they’ll get away with this,” and she raised her bound wrists with a chuckle. “They think dead heroes will save them in the end. I’d feel sorry for them, but I’m not over the stoning yet…”
Her companions laughed under their breath. They were all awfully relaxed indeed, and Evandro hated how clueless he felt. He needed to take a look at the captain’s forehead, but she was staring at him. No way to tell if the ring on her skin was dark enough to indicate her power.
A little later, the music stopped, and the camp filled with the clinking of dishes. Ampelio--again--walked to the prisoners with an armful of hard bread and a flask of water.
“I thought you wanted something to eat,” he said shyly. Evandro almost laughed in his face, but managed to keep a straight face.
“No luck with your boss?”
“Er… no, not yet. But I’m working on it, I swear, and…”
A horse neighed, and the whole group turned toward the sound. Someone was climbing on top of the cart, securing the nooses to the branch.
Evandro couldn’t look away. Simple yet effective: a slap on the horse’s rear, a snort, a few steps forward. The cart slipping away from under his feet, the rope tensing, and then…
“I’m sorry. I really am. You clearly have nothing to do with this all,” Ampelio whispered to Evandro's ear. “Nothing to do with them.”
“Are you sure?”
Ampelio got up and stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
Evandro kept his attention to the gallows.
“You said you’re just tagging along these people, right?”
“Sort of…”
“There will be no tale to collect here. Pack your things and leave as soon as you can.”
He couldn’t name the certainty that filled his words, but it was as real as the echo of magic radiating from the captain.
Ampelio clearly didn’t share his feelings, because his young face was still doubtful. Ram spared him the need for further questioning.
“It’s time,” the man said, pushing Ampelio to the side. “Justice awaits.”
One by one they were hauled to their feet and pushed to the cart. Evandro rummaged through his memory to find anything useful from his training, but his attention was all for the captain.
She was smiling, and not with the defiance of a convicted facing the headsman. She was a large cat lapping cream.
Evandro was the last of the line, and as such he stood at the bottom of the cart. The noose slipped around his head, the knot heavy against the side of his neck. Ampelio was still pestering Ram, but all he got was a shove that sent him flat on his back in the dirt.
Once the five of them were neatly stacked on the wooden platform, Ram walked in front of them with his fists on his sides.
“You know why you’re here. We can’t stand by as you shoot up our country again, and this time why? Because you couldn’t keep an eye out for a teenage girl. You lost a princess and blamed it on Epidalio, and we won’t tolerate it.”
Evandro swallowed, and the coarse rope scratched his throat. Timing was vital here: the moment the cart moved, he could jump and grab the rope, and then…
“The Asares butterfly waves over the ruins of our land, and whoever stands with the invader is an enemy as well,” Ram added, staring at Evandro with no sympathy. “But we’re not beasts. We’
re not like you. Your bodies will be sent back to your families…”
“You mean dropped on the Queen’s threshold to prove a point,” Barnabas snarled. Ram grinned, showing a gap between his front teeth.
“If that’s where your loyalty lies… but you’re in no position to sass me. Give me your names, and that of the closest family member you want informed of your death.” He snapped his fingers, and a scrawny scribe trotted out from the small crowd, with a piece of parchment and a bit of coal in his hand.
A name. I must think quickly, act quickly, I’m not Evandro. I’m no one.
The low chuckle at his side snatched him from his frenzied plans. The captain was laughing under her breath, her head low and her brown hair cascading around her squared face. Ampelio was the only other person to notice, and his pointy face twisted in concern.
The sound rose louder, and Ram glared at the woman.
“You think this is funny?”
“Oh, I do, rebel scum. I do.” She bared her teeth in a wolfish grin and clenched her fists. “You still think this farce is going anywhere, don’t you? Fool!”
Ram’s dark eyes narrowed in disgust, and among the humming of the mob, a sentry called out from the shadows. The cry gurgled away into silence, and the heads of every single outlaw turned at once. Evandro wiggled his hands under the ropes, eyes wide and hair standing on his arms. Stillness reigned for a moment: in the shocked quiet, every man grabbed his weapon--maces, bats, a single rusty pistol--and raised it in guard.
Useless.
From the thick of the bushes, a rainstorm of shining darts set the night ablaze. The magic arrows found their target: three men collapsed without a sound, the ethereal white shafts stuck in their chests, in their necks and eye sockets.
The group exploded in a roar. Who survived the first attack retreated behind the cart, and those who weren’t screaming for their wounds did so in rage.
A sphere of white-hot energy rolled on the ground and exploded in the middle of a small group of fugitives. The blaze and boom covered their shrieks.
The commotion threw the poor horse in a fit of panic; it reared up and kicked, moving the cart along.
The Other Side of Magic Page 11
