Mage and Mate

by Taki Drake

  Bravely, Hunter repeated her posture and motion. Carefully avoiding puncturing the bark, the Catog placed his head and paws flat on the mighty trunk. He could not hear or feel anything.

  Disappointed, he dropped down and turned back toward Ruth, saying, << Ruth… >>

  A great voice shouted in a terrible roar, “Mage! I am angry at you! What do you have to say for yourself?”

  The Catog spun around so quickly he looked like a whirling top, but he could not locate the source of the yell or evaluate the threat. A wave of segmented metallic-looking material rolled from the base of his tail up to cover his head and slid down over his legs. His claws fully extended and a snarl ripped from his partially opened mouth.

  Ruth had sprung to her feet at the sound of the voice, and shimmering light wrapped her forearms and dripped down into her palms. She listened not only with her ears but opened her senses to locate the being that had addressed her, but could not find anything unusual.

  Hunter came quickly to stand beside her, protecting her back as he continued to look for the threat. Knowing that she had an ally, Ruth called out, “Since I don’t know who you are, I can’t very well answer you. It would also be more courteous if you would make an appearance rather than shouting from an ambush.”

  Another voice was raised, saying, “My apologies, dear Mage. He never was very good at being social, and I have been unable to convince him that politeness is important.”

  Mist swirled a few feet in front of Ruth, growing denser in an increasingly tall column of fog and wind. Existing just for a moment, the obscuring cloud disappeared with a snapping sound, leaving a semi-transparent shape of a man dressed in robes. Ruth could see his intensely violet eyes and gentle smile.

  It was impossible to not respond to that smile. The Mage felt her own mouth respond and knew that Hunter was relaxing a small amount next to her.

  The newcomer spoke first, saying, “Welcome to the Home Wood of Borachland, Ruth Cavanaugh Dracona. I have been looking forward to meeting you. My name is Avantor Jarnell. Please feel free to call me Jarn.” The male figure ended his comment with a small bow and straightened to smile at her once more.

  “And your bad-tempered companion? Does he have a name also?”

  There was a pause, and it was apparent that Jarn was waiting for his unseen companion to speak. When nothing happened, the misty being heaved a massive sigh and said, “Eshik Gereth Bayaz, stop being rude. This young woman deserves your help and doesn’t need you to be grouchy or yelling at her! Get out here this instant!”

  It appeared to the fascinated Mage that the speaker’s words shot out like hooks around the tree trunk and into the brush on the far side. The hand gesture from that spectral being made it look like he was reeling something in. It reminded Ruth of fishing for trout and taking up the line slack.

  Letting her eyes track along the faint line of connection between the ghost and his hooks, Ruth noticed immediately when the other specter was pulled into the area facing them.

  Hunter’s snarling got more intense, and his armor began to glow in the filtered light. Ruth could feel the heat radiating from it as he stood close to her in a protective stance.

  Jarn laughed and said, “Eshik may be bad-tempered, but he would not hurt you.”

  The second specter became clearer and immediately growled out, “Stop trying to interpret for me, blast it! The girl should have come to talk to me before this.”

  Ruth laughed, a delightful expression of joy that Hunter had worried he would not hear again. The woman unselfconsciously patted Jarn’s shoulder, never noticing the specter’s look of shock at her touch.

  The Mage was focused on the second ghost, smiling when she said, “I have no idea why I should have come and talked to you. I have been so twisted around with everything that has occurred that I am sure that I’m guilty of many sins of omission. However, much that you feel disregarded, it was not intentional.”

  The grumpy ghost of the old man muttered, “Bad manners these days. No adherence to tradition!”

  The expression on his face reminded Ruth of the pout Troyer still used occasionally. The scrunched up face and puckered up lower lip was just too much for her, and she dissolved into peals of laughter.

  The specter seemed in shock, balanced between outrage and something else. Hunter found what that something else was when two male voices joined the mage in mirth.

  Slowly, the laughter wound down, and Ruth caught her breath. She was going to resume her conversation when Hunter’s strangled mental voice acted like a deluge of ice-cold water, << Ruth, look at what he’s wearing! >>

  << Robes and pants, layers to keep him warm and fairly nice looking boots. What am I missing? And why do you sound so strange? >>

  << He is wearing one just like yours. >>

  <<?? >>

  << The circlet. He’s wearing one that looks identical to the one on your head right now. >>

  Ruth whipped her eyes back to the specter in shock and saw that the circlet was indeed a match for the one she wore. Shaken, the woman stuttered into speech, “You were an Unfettered Mage! And also the Archmage! Why did no one tell me you were here?”

  There was a long moment of silence before Jarn whispered, “We thought you didn’t care to speak to us. It never occurred to either one of us that you didn’t know.”

  Ruth staggered, clutching at Hunter’s back, ignoring its scorching heat. The Catog appeared to twist slightly under her grip, and the viciously hot surface disappeared, leaving his dense fur.

  The woman’s voice came out in a thready whisper, “W-w-will you help me? Help us? I feel like I’m traveling without a map or a plan. Pawlik is struggling too.

  “He has some ancient books that are semi-readable. Most of them have not been preserved well and are falling apart. Some of them are in languages neither one of us knows, and we can’t find anybody to translate.

  “We have been trying to sort through myths, but it’s all patched together. Everything feels shaky because I just know that important pieces are missing.”

  Eshik moved closer to Ruth and became more solid. Brown eyes stared into hers, and the elderly man dropped all traces of disquiet. Instead of anger, his face showed his understanding, and his mouth moved into a smile. Jarn had positioned himself next to Eshik and reached out both hands to touch his companion.

  The spectral Mage spoke gently, “Of course, we will help you. That is why Jarn and I have stayed to protect Borachland all these many years. Advice we can give you, and welcome also.”

  Ruth was trembling like a leaf, clinging to Hunter desperately. She stared from one of the ghosts to the other and asked, “Can you tell me what I should be asking? I don’t even know that much.”

  Jarn answered, “I think we should start again. How about if I kick off the introductions this time.” The ghost waited a few seconds. When no one else spoke, he continued, saying, “The gentleman beside me is Eshik Gereth Bayaz, the prior Archmage and the last Unfettered Mage in the known galaxy.”

  The other specter bowed deeply to Ruth before straightening to say, “My companion is Avantor Jarnell Davil Borach, Lord Duke of Borachland, 79th to hold that title, and my dearly loved Anchor.”

  Ruth was struck speechless, unable to get a single word out. She stared at first one ghost and then the other, incapable of coherent thought. The swirl of her chaotic mental processes finally coalesced into a question.

  “Why were you mad at me? Is it because I’m defective in some way? Do I not have enough power to be the Archmage?”

  Both Jarn and Eshik roared in laughter. Sputtering and coughing, Eshik finally answered her, saying, “No! Nothing like that. I was feeling ignored, and that put me out of sorts. That was the main issue, but I did have a problem with you deciding to change the Castle.

  “While your demonstration of power in the castle yesterday should inform everyone that you do not lack in power, I have been waiting for thousands of years to rip that ugly carpeting out of the upstairs! It is n
ot fair that you got to do that.”

  Jarn chimed in, “I actually thought it was a terribly efficient way to redecorate and let you take out a lot of your frustration on things that needed to be destroyed anyway. Another part of Eshik’s sulk was that you didn’t invite us to participate. It would’ve been fun!”

  The repeated shocks to her system had overwhelmed Ruth’s ability to cope. Her legs collapsed, and she settled onto the ground with a thump. Starting with hiccuping sobs, the woman ran a gamut of emotions ending up with chortles of laughter. Getting herself back under control, Ruth took a deep breath and stood up.

  Realizing that Hunter had been frozen in place while she had recovered, she asked him, << Hunter, are you okay? >>

  The Catog’s voice was slightly shaken when he said, << This has been a very confusing day. We started out with combat fatigue, moved through a wonderful exploration of new ground, and ended up talking to two beings that make me feel like a kitten again. >>

  << At least you don’t have to explain the hard parts of this. >>

  << What do you mean? >>

  << I am the one that has to tell all of this to Pawlik. >>

  Chapter 17 – Pardon our Mess

  Borachland Castle Grounds

  Her mind on overload, swirling with possibilities and questions, Ruth walked back toward the Castle, Hunter glued to her side. There was no conversation for the first mile or so, the two friends walking in companionable silence.

  Hunter came to an abrupt stop and lifted his head, tilting first one ear and then the other forward. Sensitive to his body language, Ruth looked around, searching for possible threats but saw nothing.

  << What is wrong? I don’t see anything amiss, Hunter. >>

  << Where is the security guard? I have not heard her or the one that had run away earlier. >>

  << What should we do? That seems very strange to me. >>

  << Proceed cautiously. Something threatens us, and I don’t know what it is. My fur feels pushed the wrong way, and my claws want to come out. Never a good sign. >>

  The Catog took the lead, gliding across the path slightly. The Mage stayed about ten feet behind him, senses alert and searching. Tension continued to twist the air into the breathless anticipation of danger approaching as they came to the edge of the woods.

  Only two more steps would move Hunter out of the shadowed forest and into a brighter, more open area of grasses. Ruth could feel the pressure in her chest when he moved one more step. She caught her breath and gasped when instead of taking another, the Catog froze in place.

  << What do you see? >>

  << A better question would be, what do I feel? It is not the rational part of my mind that is telling me that if I take one more step that you and I will be in grave danger. It is the sense that reads traces on the wind and the echoes of previous, painful experience. >>

  Ruth thought for a moment, searching her brain for something she could do to help. Her energy reservoirs had not recovered, but she believed she could make a basic illusion. Whispering out loud but in a soft tone that she knew that Hunter would hear, the Mage said, “This will provide us with a test.”

  << Like a scout! Brilliant idea. >>

  Flickers of an uncanny light spilled down her arms and pooled in both of the Mage’s hands. Slowly, Ruth brought her palms together and laced her fingers to form a rough bowl. As it filled with the shadowed light, she made a quick gesture as if she were throwing a cup of liquid up into the air.

  Instantly, a shroud of fog spilled over onto both Ruth and Hunter, soaking into their skin and then withdrawing. There was a smell of minty greenness before a complete copy of the two people flickered into existence, standing beside them. Looking and moving identically to the Mage and Catog, the two illusions continued down the path toward the Castle proper.

  The conjured facsimiles had traveled only another 15 feet before an eye-searing beam of destructive light burned its way through the thick grass and enveloped the two illusions in a blast of obliteration.

  For a few seconds, there was no sound and no movement. Ruth and Hunter held their position and waited, the Mage’s heart beating so hard in her chest that she worried that her enemies would find it easy to locate her.

  The grass along one side of the trail started to move. Ruth could hear rustling and saw part of the ground shift and a figure come to its knees. Ruth recognized the type of being, having encountered them on the slave ship. Bipedal, the ambusher had ashen gray skin and slots of nostrils for a nose. Approximately 6 feet tall, it was lean and flexible rather than broad and brawny.

  The Mage suppressed a shiver of dread as she watched the assassin slither forward. Its lethal nature clouded the air around it like a blurring camouflage.

  The killer had been concealed under what looked like a blanket of turf and grass. Small bits of dirt trailed behind him as he stepped over to where the illusions had last stood. Even from where she was, Ruth could tell that the creature was getting agitated.

  Hunter’s mental voice was calm, when he said,<< I think he’s looking for signs of ash or something. I wonder why he can’t see us. Are you concealing us, Ruth? >>

  The Mage latched on to that serenity and felt her own level of tension subside. << No, although that would’ve been a smart thing to do. My sense is that the forest is doing something to make us stay unnoticed. >>

  << You might think about retreating deeper in the woods then because I don’t think he’s going to give up. >>

  Just then the assassin straightened up and spun around searching for his targets. It was evident to Ruth that he knew they had to be somewhere close. Ruth’s magic began to build once more, but the Mage could feel the slower accumulation of her power as her overtaxed body struggled to fulfill her desires.

  Ruth could feel the waiting power in the Catog’s body next to her. Once again, armor flowed over is fur, creating a living layer of protection. Instead of a mirrorlike finish, this time the Catog was clad in a dark-surfaced shield that made him difficult to see.

  Keeping a position between Ruth and the assassin, the Catog blasted a quick mental image to the woman of her retreating into the forest. The Mage could feel the readiness of the warrior as well as the reassurance he offered.

  Deciding that retreat was the smartest solution, Ruth took one step backward before catching her heel on an uneven place of the path and falling. The hard slam to the ground forced an explosion of air out of her mouth, and the Mage let out a faint cry of pain.

  The assassin reacted instantly, swinging his bulky weapon up in a rapid motion. Hunter leaped backward desperately and covered Ruth’s body with his own just in time to deflect a beam from their enemy’s gun.

  Ruth struggled to get out from underneath Hunter and regain her feet, but the assassin made that impossible when he fired repeatedly. Moving in a twisting dance of deadly grace, Hunter caught the next three shots against his own body before they could injure the Mage.

  Ruth knew that they were on the defensive and that eventually, the assassin would win. By himself, the Catog could have gone into stealth mode and killed the enemy, but Hunter couldn’t get a break long enough to do so.

  The Catog would not abandon her, Ruth was sure of it. Her mind spun, trying to find something that she could contribute. She felt useless in this fight, crippled by her lack of battle instinct and training.

  Only days ago, she had almost died, overextending her magic. She was far from recovered, and her power was reduced. In this weakened state, the Mage could not see how anything she did would foil the attack. Desperation clamped around her throat, and Ruth felt like the woods were closing in around her.

  Anything she did ran the risk of breaking Hunter’s concentration. Afraid to move, unwilling to let the assassin kill her friend, the Mage was hyperaware of her surroundings.

  A whisper of a sound caught Ruth’s attention. The faint thud of footsteps sounded, and the woman almost felt like crying. Is there another killer? Has a partner come to help him?

>   Another lance of death burned through the air with an acrid odor of ozone and once again, Hunter stepped into it. Ruth could now hear him panting and realized that something was going to have to break this impasse if they were going to survive. The Mage steeled herself to pull energy from somewhere, anywhere, but before she could take that desperate action, a sound came from their assassin, and the attacking beam abruptly cut off.

  Gasping for air, the Mage looked out into the meadow where the assassin had stood. Her eyes burned with sparkles of heat, and her chest ached with desperate attempts to breathe. The killer lay on the ground, pieces of him scattered in all directions. His gun had been flung to one side and lay untended in the grass. Ruth’s unbelieving eyes could see where the assassin’s hands still were attached to the weapon.

  Relief crashed over Ruth, and her legs gave way, lowering her abruptly onto the stony path. Breath rattled in her throat, shudders of rippling adrenaline shaking her body. The deadly assault was over, and the Mage reached shaking hands out to touch the exhausted bodyguard beside her.

  Hunter still wore his armor, staring fixedly at the pathway where the assassin had been during the battle. Ruth swung her eyes in that direction, fighting against the sluggish reactions of her body.

  The Mage blinked her eyes, then reached up and rubbed her face their hands. What she saw couldn’t seem to connect in her brain for a small moment she was thrown back in her memory to the slave ship. Her cold determination to survive echoed across time, touching her with an energy that helped her straighten up.

  Still in a haze of disbelief, she watched as Pawlik beheaded the corpse of her attacker in a frenzy of slashing strikes. Chest heaving, the Mage’s Anchor paused for a moment before turning his head and locating Ruth.

  He looked like someone out of legend, carrying a bloody sword and glistening with sweat. Pawlik strode through the blood and gore uncaringly, focused along a tunnel of sight that led directly to his objective. The echoes of deep fear peeked under the incandescent fury that surrounded him like thunder clouds in a storm, as he moved in silence.