Return of the Wizard King

by Chad Corrie

  Following her comment, Dugan fell maddeningly silent, leaving Alara uncertain of anything. All she had been planning—what she’d thought would be needed or worked out through a very different process—had been tossed out the window.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “It’s night. We can part ways without anyone getting hurt. You can always say you lost me in the darkness.”

  She was losing him and fast. She needed to turn this around.

  “Where would you go, though?” she asked. “Or better yet, how? You think you can just walk into a city and pick up some sort of transport off Colloni with that wonderful scar on your shoulder and all these hunters on your back? Not to mention your lack of proper attire. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be back in Remolos right now, getting ready for your cross.” Alara’s forehead started beading with sweat. She cringed as Dugan yanked her head to the side, forcing her to peer into his cold and mirthless gaze. She felt the small trickle of blood glide farther down her throat. She’d underestimated him, and that miscalculation might now cost her life. She needed to regain control.

  “What if I told you I’d help you off Colloni first, before you had to decide.” Alara made her face match her calm tone. Even her eyes were still ponds, masking like a sheet of ice the seething chaos beneath. “A goodwill gesture to prove my intentions.”

  Dugan hesitated. “You’d really offer me freedom without any strings attached?”

  “Yes. It’s up to your honor and conscience to decide where your obligation lies after that.”

  Dugan smirked. “You’re assuming a lot about my conscience and honor then.”

  “Maybe, but it’s a risk I’m prepared to take.” This time her words were bold as well as true.

  “So why attack me instead of telling me all this?”

  “I believe I tried to.” She did the best she could with hiding her frustration. “But someone was too bullheaded and bent on running to listen. Besides, we didn’t have time to stand around and talk. The hunters were right on your trail. You left a swath of tracks even a blind boar could follow.”

  “And your arrow was drugged.”

  “Enchanted to make whatever it hits sleep.”

  “You a wizard?”

  “No. There’s only the arrow. And once you were out I brought you the rest of the way.”

  “You really expect me to believe that?” He made another quick look about. “Where are the others who helped you?”

  “There’s just me,” she replied. “And you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” Her eyes darted for the gladius at her jugular. “We’ll be safe here until morning. Right now, we both need some rest.”

  The blade didn’t move. “Assuming I agree to follow you tomorrow, where are we going?”

  “I have a boat waiting for us in Argis, a small town about a day’s journey from here. From there we’ll head out to sea and you’ll be free from Colloni for good.” The gladius relaxed a bit. She hoped it meant he was beginning to trust her. At the very least, a return to reason was a blessing.

  “I’m risking my life for your safety and freedom. At least put down the gladius.” Surprisingly, the weapon departed from her neck. Dugan remained behind her, though, ready to strike at any time.

  “Thank you.” She carefully wiped the blood from her neck with her fingers. “You can leave anytime you want, but it would be foolish to try. Like I said, there’s nowhere on Colloni you’d be safe. As long as you’re on elven soil, you’ll be tracked down like a dog.” Growing bolder, she peered back at the gladiator, adding, “The best chance you have is me, and you know it.”

  “All right,” he said, wiping the gladius on his breechcloth. “I’ll go as far as the boat ride from Argis, but then I choose where to go after that.”

  “That was the deal,” said Alara. “If anything, I’ll have done some good in helping you escape.” She pulled a corner of her cloak to her neck and cleaned up the rest of the blood that had trailed along her collarbone. “But I do think you’ll consider joining our cause once you understand the nature of the situation.”

  Dugan studied her closely. “You called me Dugan in the woods. How did you know my name?”

  “You mean before I heard it from the hunters?” She returned the cloak to its resting place, satisfied the worst of the bleeding had stopped. “I’d rather not say out here. It’d be best left until all those concerned meet together.”

  “And why’s that?” She could feel Dugan’s eyes hard upon her as she unpacked a simple brown cloth from her pack before unrolling it on the ground.

  “You’d better get some sleep.” She lay on her blanket and covered up with her cloak. Her short bow and sword lay ready at her side, but she didn’t make any move toward them nor even seek them out with her eyes. Although there was a reprieve, she knew the smallest gesture could fracture their fragile peace.

  “What about the other hunters on my trail? What happened to them?”

  “Get some sleep. We have a good ways to travel tomorrow.”

  Dugan stood for a moment before putting a few feet between them. Seemingly unsatisfied with the distance, he added a few more paces before focusing on the immediate area. Constructing a bed with dirt and grass, he made his rest opposite the elf—his blade never out of reach. Alara decided on one final check of her new companion before finally taking her rest. When she did, she found Dugan’s eyes staring right back at her while his hands searched across his lower back.

  “If you’re looking for a hole, you won’t find it,” she said. “The arrow was enchanted to cause sleep, not harm.” She turned away from the Telborian, focusing solely on sleep.

  “Magic.” Dugan’s hoarse whisper was more like a profanity than anything else.

  Chapter 8

  The better the prey, the better the pay.

  —Old hunter saying

  “You sure this is the safest route?” Dugan stood in a small area secluded by a clump of waist-high, bristling bushes about a quarter mile from Argis. He’d long ago sheathed his gladii, which Alara took as a sign she might have earned some trust.

  “Yes, and we made good time too,” she said, removing the pack from her shoulders. They’d started their trek westward at first light. Alternating between running and jogging, they had slowed to a walk as they’d moved into their present location about eighty yards from the flagstone road leading up to the gate. They’d more than enough room to run or hide, while also having a clear view for much-needed surveillance.

  “My boat is waiting at the docks.” Alara rested the backpack by her feet, digging through it as she spoke.

  “It doesn’t look that impressive.” Dugan studied the port town with a doubtful gaze. It really was a simple affair. Common stone walls sectioned it off from the plains while leaving it open to the beach and waves. There was some traffic here and there on the road, but it was sparse.

  “That’s the idea,” Alara said, pulling out a common brown cloak from her backpack. “Someplace out of the way to shield us from anyone who still might be after you.

  “All we need to do is get to the boat,” she said, shoving the cloak at Dugan. “Take this. If you hold it closed tight it should keep you hidden, as long as you don’t speak. Slump to hide your build and keep your face in the hood.”

  Dugan scowled at the garment. “It smells like a hunter.”

  “I got it off one while I was tracking you. The scent should add to your disguise. I expect you’ve had enough experience with them to pretend to be one.”

  “You were right.” Dugan donned the cloak. “You are full of surprises.”

  Alara let a small smile trace her lips as she drew up her hood. “Are you ready?”

  “Why are you cloaked, though?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m a Patrious. The Elyellium don’t favor us too highly. Right now it’s better if I assume the role of a hunter as well.”

  “Better for who?” Dugan drew up his own hood, adjusting it to conceal as much of his features as possible. “I
thought you said I’d be safer with you than on my own.”

  Alara finished donning her backpack. “As long as you stay with me, you are safer than on your own.”

  Dugan paused before giving a curt nod. “To the docks, then.” She made her way for the road, Dugan behind her.

  “So why don’t the Elyellium like you?”

  Alara kept her attention directed on Argis’ advancing gray walls. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Beyond the town’s thick, iron-shod wooden gate, a whole new world appeared. A commercial sector thrived amid stern stone edifices, columns, and walls, and color leapt out at all who regarded the shops and carts and people milling through the streets. Argis’ narrow lanes and outer walls didn’t make fresh air too common, which allowed for some less-than-pleasing odors alongside the aromas of fresh-baked bread and exotic spices dominating certain sections of the town.

  “How much farther?” Dugan rasped from his hood while taking stock of a drunken beggar plying his tin plate for sympathy against a nearby step.

  “We’re near the docks.” Alara’s eyes darted small looks here and there as they walked through the thinly populated streets, careful of anything or anyone who might hint at causing them harm. “About another two streets, and we should be there.”

  Much of the population were elves, but some were Telborian sailors and merchants. None of them appeared curious about their presence. This was good news, for they were reaching the area of Argis where the hunters would be roaming—seeking those who might try an escape by sea, as they were about to do. Get past them and they’d be free.

  “Aghh!”

  Alara spun around and found Dugan had stopped. He was looking at the sole of his boot.

  “What is it?” She kept her voice low. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Dugan muttered in a hoarse whisper. “I stepped in a pile of—”

  “May I be of some assistance?” A voice speaking Elonum drew the duo’s eyes to a lean elf wearing the garb of a hunter. He appeared an average-looking Elyellium, black haired and blue eyed, but his manner spoke of some training and experience. Alara cursed under her breath as she managed a smile. They were so close.

  “Are you hurt?” The elf addressed Dugan, who was still deeply cloaked in the dark hood and now lowering his foot as calmly as he could.

  The air seemed to draw itself closely around the pair as the elf continued staring at Dugan. Alara sweated profusely as she tried to think up ideas to get them out of the hunter’s grasp without arousing any unwanted attention. As she racked her brain, Dugan saved them both.

  “That’s all right.” An old voice speaking Elonum came out of Dugan’s hood. “I just stepped on a bad spot of road, that’s all. Thank you for the offer.”

  Alara couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

  “Very well. Take care—you too, sister. I’d advise some rest. You look fairly pale. Good hunting.” The congenial words were more unnerving than his presence.

  “G-good hunting,” Alara stammered in Elonum with disbelief.

  As the hunter made his way for the harbor, Alara stared at Dugan in astonishment.

  “How did you do that?” she whispered in amazement.

  “I’m full of surprises too,” he replied, scraping the sole of his soiled boot on a nearby wall. “Let’s get to the boat.”

  “That’s just the kind of thinking we need on the mission.”

  “The boat.” Dugan’s face became like stone.

  Alara nodded, her manner all business again. “It’s up ahead.”

  “Good. I’d like to be out of here by nightfall.” He made his way forward.

  Alara pulled into the lead. Silently, the two continued for the harbor, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

  Argis’ harbor was a simple collection of docks constructed from wood and stone that jutted out into the Cerulean Sea. Vessels of varying size, from small fishing boats to massive trading ships, were tied at every pier, while others sought to depart or dock. Men scurried up and down the gangplanks with crates and barrels filled with a multitude of goods. Others hauled thick nets about, fat with fish and other delicacies.

  All this was carried out in a self-contained world: a whole clockwork motion of people and things set to its own rhythm. Fishermen and traders worked from shops or directly from the back of their boats, seeking what business they could before day’s end. Shouts and creative chants tried to reel folks in for the catch of the day or the latest bolt of cloth, spices, or gems. While Alara and Dugan didn’t get distracted by such temptations, their progress was slowed by those who did, making it all the more maddening with their destination just in reach.

  Slowing down for the fifth time, she dared a glance over her shoulder. Dugan wasn’t behind her. Frantic, she rapidly searched the area until she caught sight of him walking back into Argis.

  “Dugan! What are you doing?” she hissed in Elonum, chasing after the bulky human as inconspicuously as she could.

  He didn’t respond, just continued walking, reaching out his hand into empty air. Then suddenly he stopped and drew his gladii as if facing a fellow combatant. Alara stood in shocked horror as she watched him begin swinging wildly in the air, the motions of his thrashing causing his hood to fall back and scattering the people who quickly turned and stepped back or outright fled from him. The gladiator’s erratic behavior also attracted the attention of an elf entering the docks, who, upon seeing his antics, ran back into town shouting excitedly.

  “What did you get me into, Gilban?” Alara wondered aloud before running after the Telborian.

  Dugan had been following behind Alara when he’d heard a whisper.

  “This one too?” It sounded like someone right beside him speaking in Telboros. Turning his head, he didn’t see anyone. Thinking it was nothing but his imagination, he continued on.

  “Yes, him as well.” Another faint voice trailed past his ears. Turning around again, he stopped for a moment, looking more carefully than before at the motley scene around him.

  Nothing.

  As he was about to resume his trek, a shimmering white light appeared a short distance from him. It was faint and subtle, like a cascade of diamond dust, but it drew him toward it nonetheless. Almost as if in a trance, he instinctually stretched out a hand toward the sparkling air. But even as he did so, the same area grew dark and a series of ropy black tentacles began spilling out.

  Reflexively, he pulled out his swords and took a few steps back, watching the tentacles shoot out of the now pitch-black section of open air. Each tentacle held a cruel-looking mouth, which snapped ravenously at the empty air—eager for something to catch between its teeth.

  Dugan quickly leapt back when a larger tentacle darted for his head. Dodging the attack dropped his hood as he replied with an attack of his own. His sword passed through the tentacle as if it were nothing more than smoke. A haunting laugh followed the failed action, along with a bright white light. When he opened his eyes, he found himself facing an outpouring of hunters coming right at him.

  “Are you mad?” he heard Alara shout as he felt her arm on his back. There was no time for explanations as the hunters and a few human sailors closed in on them like sharks smelling blood.

  A small gathering of humans stopped their labors on the docks and sat on some chests and casks, eagerly cheering on the approaching fight. Many others dashed off for safer quarters until it was over.

  “The slave’s mine!” said an Elyelmic male with a husky voice and twisted smile.

  Dugan’s first sword clanged heavily against the nearest hunter’s blade. Swinging his second gladius, he pushed violently against the hunter and used his greater strength to gain access to the middle of their circle, which was quickly enclosing him. He estimated their numbers at half a dozen. He’d faced worse odds before.

  He was half aware of Alara engrossed in her own conflict, but focused on his own battle. Human thug joined elven hunter as they encircled their prey, hoping he’d be an easy
take. They swung wide for their first attack, giving him the time he needed to ready his stance. He unleashed one deep thrust followed immediately by another, sending two hunters to their graves. As the elves fell, the rest of the hunters attacked with vengeful fury.

  Of the three Telborian sailors and thugs who also joined the fight, two were hopelessly drunk and missed Dugan by such a large margin that they nearly managed cutting off their own heads. One of the two remaining hunters jabbed into the fray, making it through an attempted block. This attack pierced Dugan’s side. At the same time a blow from behind struck across his back. He felt the blood flow from the wounds. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. The hunters drew closer, dark mirth dancing in their eyes.

  A new surge of rage filled Dugan, flooding his muscles with pulsating strength. Shouting a deep-throated roar, he swung his blades wildly, cutting down the last of the elves. His swords laid waste to much of their flesh, even cleaving to the bone on one strike. He quickly yanked the weapons free, shifting to his next challengers.

  Witnessing the carnage, the remaining slack-jawed humans decided no award was as important as their lives and ran off into the streets, merging with the cowering populace. Watching the fleeing thugs, Dugan grinned wickedly before seeking out Alara.

  He saw the other hunters had surrounded her. She was holding her own for the moment, but appeared in danger of losing that advantage rather quickly. With fierce determination, he leapt for the circle of brown-cloaked elves.

  Alara lost Dugan in a flowing ring of steel and brown cloaks that rapidly swirled up and around him. Some of the elves had continued forward, advancing on Alara, but their threatening posture faded when they realized she was an elf. Her hood was still drawn, hiding much of her distinguishing features, but she kept her falchion readied in hand.

  The hunters hesitated.

  “Are you hurt?” a thin elf asked Alara in Elonum.