by LeRoy Clary
“That has nothing to do with me. I just tend fires in a morning kitchen.”
As she watched, the two soldiers riding horses at the front of their procession stiffened as one. The man on the left quietly slid down and out of his saddle as if he had lost all the bones in his body. The other spun to face them with an attempted shout of warning, an arrow protruding from his chest. Another arrow struck him near his neck, and he also tumbled from the saddle.
The Mage leaped to his feet, arms held wide. Balls of blue swirling fire ignited in his palms, each the size of an apple. As that happened, a dozen screaming men rushed at them from the underbrush on both sides of the road, swords raised and flashing in the sunlight. The Mage threw first one ball of fire, then the other. Each struck a charging figure and exploded in a flare of intense blue fire, each explosion taking down two or three more men, all of whom laid still.
Hannah looked behind the carriage. The two guards back there were fighting off four more attackers, but already two of the attackers had fallen, and the guards were about to slay the last two. She turned her attention ahead again, finding the Mage had thrown more blue fire, and more men lay still, but more ragged attackers rushed from the underbrush, brandishing knives, swords, or clubs.
The Mage pushed her down on the floor as he muttered an incantation. At the conclusion of the short utterance, he snapped his empty hands forward, his face set in a rigid expression. The attackers screamed and dropped their weapons. Most turned their attention to their palms, crying and howling in pain. From her position on the floor, Hannah saw dirty gray smoke rising from the empty hands of more than one man, their weapons also emitted faint puffs of smoke.
But not one of them still held a weapon. Only the two knights from behind, who were charging forward on horseback held weapons, and those swords in their hands were already swinging downward when the Mage tossed a lap-blanket over her head.
“Don’t watch this, Hannah.”
She didn’t peek, but couldn’t close her ears. She heard screams and grunts, and she imagined the slashing swords from the backs of the horses. The whinnying of the horses, the swish of swinging swords, and the painful cries of men with hands that burned all mixed into a chorus of sounds too chaotic to follow. She heard the wet-sounding strikes of the guard’s heavy blades, and a short time after, the limp bodies of men falling to the ground, some still crying out in pain.
It was over in the time it takes to draw a few short breaths. She felt the lurch of the carriage as it moved ahead. The Mage said, “We’re safe for now, Hannah, but don’t take that blanket off just yet, it’s not pretty out here, and certainly not a sight for young eyes.”
His voice came from a distance further away. Hannah heard the snap of the whip and the jingle of trace chains. The horses nickered and pulled. Hannah did as he ordered. The blanket stayed on her head, and she listened to a few words exchanged between the two guards, and then the Mage said, “Up there, around the bend.”
Hooves stamped, and the carriage bounced and squeaked. Finally, it pulled to a stop. “You can take the blanket off, now.”
Hannah tore it off as if its smell offended her. She could see nothing from the floor so without asking for permission she leaped to her feet and turned a full circle. There were no attackers in sight, only forest. Two of the guards were missing, and so was the carriage driver. She spotted the pool of blood drying where the driver had sat.
“Scared?” the Mage asked.
“No. I should be, I guess, but you’re here, and that makes me feel safe.”
“I’ll drive the carriage, now. An arrow killed our driver, one aimed at me, I suspect. Others killed our two guards at the front, both of them longtime friends of mine.” He sounded distracted, “You can ride up front with me or stay where you are.”
Hannah scrambled over the back of the seat and used the blanket to wipe the blood. “Was it horrible?”
“It was, and I lost three dear friends and protectors. It’s a sad day. Those guards have been with me for over a year and the driver for ten. We’ll say words of worship to help them on their next journey when we have time.”
“You left them back there?”
“As they would wish. We could do no more than place them together and fold their arms across their chests, as was done. They would expect no more, given the circumstances.”
Hannah glanced at the two remaining guards, at their blood-splattered uniforms, sallow faces and wild eyes. One hand held blades still ready with sword-breakers in their off hand. Before making the smallest move, Hannah wanted to inform them of it and wait for their response until they calmed. She sat closer beside the Mage, all signs of their cheery conversation long past.
Hannah said, “They dropped their swords, and their hands caught fire.”
“I’m sorry you saw that.”
“The swords were iron. Magic doesn’t work on iron, or not very well, you said.”
Picking up the reigns and slapping the two horses’ rumps to draw their attention, he ordered them ahead. He’d driven more than one carriage from the looks of his skill. He glanced at Hannah from the side of his eye. “You listen well. They wrapped the handles in strips of leather. A rare wood called Yew made the bows. The knives had handles made of bone or antler. All those things emanated from the living and therefore easier to manipulate.”
Hannah rode in silence, sensing the Mage wanted the same. Her eyes darted from one side of the road to the other, searching for more danger. Attackers could leap out again at any turn. She ignored the hills in the distance, the puffy clouds in the sky, and smells of a forest growing older by the day. When one of the horses relieved itself, she couldn’t help but look for Cleanup to do his job.
She looked at the fine, beautiful carriage, the embroidered purple robe the Mage wore, the gold trim and rings on his fingers. Each ring held stones of different colors. A gold chain circled his neck; a black pendant hung to his chest. Then she looked down at her tattered and dirty shift, a dress made for someone else long ago. Two strips of material, one over each shoulder, held it on her. The color was the color of the dirt in the palace yards, the material thick, course, and patched.
“Will I ever go back?” she asked.
“Perhaps. But if and when you do, it will be different. Far different.”
“Because they’ll know I’m your daughter?”
“No. Because each person back there will know you as a woman mage. The first I’ve ever heard of. That alone puts your life at risk. People do not accept new things easily, new or different, and you are certainly that.”
“I’m no mage,” she snorted in disbelief.
“Not yet, but at your age, you already control fire. That’s the first law, the first test of a mage. Only mages can make fire, and it usually takes years of training for most of us, and always the boys training as mages are far older than you, usually at least fifteen and nearly full grown. You do it after teaching yourself at only eleven. I suspect you may become a far better mage than me, perhaps one of the greats.”
“Why are there no women mages?” Hannah asked, her tone defensive. “That’s unfair.”
The Mage snorted, as he might in amused laughter, but no trace of humor showed in his eyes. He said, “Because women are better than men in almost every way. We men only deal with physical changes in the world. Women deal with the ethereal.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“While a mage can make a fire with his finger, or most of us can, a woman deals with the otherworldly. They forecast the future, influence animals directly, and cast spells on people via a love potent and the like. More than one king has married because of a similar spell cast upon him, and there are other ways to use a good potent. Some are for anger or hate. Any emotion, if the woman is skilled.”
“You see that as better?” Hannah asked, calmer now, but still curious.
“I would ask you the same question, in return. Which would you prefer? The ability to light a campfire or candle
with a flame from your finger, or to know what will happen to you tomorrow? Or to know whom you will marry? Or even have the means to influence who it will be that marries you?”
“How would I know which is better?” She lifted her chin, suspecting she had won her first argument with him.
“I’d ask one final question on the subject. Given the choice between a fat, lazy peasant with foul breath, or a handsome young prince, which would you choose if you had the ability? That should provide all the answer you require on the subject.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Hannah had wanted to laugh at the suggestion that she might become a female mage. But she hadn’t heard the inference of humor in her father’s voice and didn’t believe him in a mood to jest. She looked to the nearest guard, the one riding directly beside her, now, protecting her with his body and life. She mouthed to him silently, “Me?”
He nodded solemnly, then turned back to watch for danger.
Hannah rode quietly, reviewing all the Old Mage said since they left the palace, combining facts and words in different ways while trying to understand the immensity of what had happened so far. Instinctively, she knew that much had not yet been said between them. The problem was that her mother had promised her knowledge—then died. That wouldn’t happen again. She wanted to know it all. Now.
“Do you feel like talking?” She asked softly.
“No.”
“Well, I understand that, but there are things I need to know.” Hannah felt her cheeks grow pink. What right do I have to speak to the Old Mage like that? Just because I believe, he is my father?
“What is it you want?” His voice sounded weary, tired and sad. His eyes looked ready to weep.
She refused to relent. She’d lost one opportunity to learn the information she wanted, and after the attack, she understood that if another came and the Old Mage died, so would her only source of information. “I think I understand some of the reasons for the attack, but what I don’t know is who was behind it. Somebody paid those men. I recognized at least two of them from the tavern when I sat at the window outside and listened to the music, and they work for hard coin. They have no personal aims in life but to earn enough coin to drink ale and whore until they pass out.”
The Mage cast her another surprised look but held his tongue.
She continued chatting as if discussing the bright yellow flowers growing in the next field they passed. “That means somebody put enough coins in their purses to kill us.”
“Meaning?” he asked.
“Well, it was not a worker at the inn or poor person who did that. Whoever paid them, had enough coins to pass around to ten or eleven men, enough money for them to risk their lives over. How many people in the palace have that amount?” Hannah set her jaw with conviction and crossed her arms over her chest.
The Mage pulled the carriage to a stop and turned to the two guards. “One of you go back there and search every one of the men. Bring me every coin you find.”
“And find a sharp knife and scabbard that will fit my hand, if you will,” Hannah added, as if she had any right to give orders.
“I’ll handle that,” the nearer of the two guards said, unbuckling a wide leather belt with a knife and scabbard attached. The guard was old enough to have streaks of white in his beard, but his mannerisms were those of someone younger. He held it out to her. “My father gave me this when I was about your age.” He turned to the younger guard, “Seth, see if you can find anything back there that will do for me until we get to a weapons-master. Now go search them.”
The younger guard nodded and spun his horse and trotted off. Hannah looked at the belt. She saw the different color of the leather where the buckle rubbed and the elongated hole and knew it would be so long she would tie the end in a knot to make it fit. But the row of holes ran half way around the belt. She put it around her waist and found the last hole fit her perfectly.
The blade was shorter than she expected when she pulled it but made of fine steel and sharper any she’d ever touched, including all the knives in the kitchen. At the end of the handle, a protective bar guarded her hand against slipping to the blade.
She looked at him. “Are you sure? This is too nice.”
“I should have replaced it with one that better fits my big hand years ago, but I wanted to remember my father with it. Now I’ll know it’s in good hands.”
The Mage gave the guard a wink she was not supposed to see. He asked, “Sir James, you don’t have to do that. Suppose she just borrows it until we reach the King’s castle?”
“I insist,” The guard said. He used the edge of his sword to slice off the extra length of the belt and adjusted it to fit better, making his gift permanent.
“Is it wrong for me to accept this?” Hannah asked.
“Wrong?” the Mage questioned in surprise, then quickly continued, “It is a great honor. Sir James is probably the most famous knight in the land. The King knighted him in front of half the population after the battle of Sizemore, which most say he almost won single-handedly. He wore that blade in the battle.”
Hannah looked at it with reverence, then started to unbuckle the belt to hand it back. The Mage said softly, “Do not insult him by refusing to accept his gift.”
“He is a Knight?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, more than that. Sir James is often appointed as the King’s Hand, which means what he does is considered the same as if the King did it with his hand.”
“If he’s so important, why is he guarding you?”
The Mage and Knight shared a half smile. Sir James answered first, “Because we have been friends for many years. Besides, this gets me out of the castle and lets me stretch my legs. We had no idea they would attack, or that there was any danger.”
Hannah asked, “Then why not go back to the palace where all the Earl’s guards are so you’ll be safe?”
The Mage sighed. “Because I suspect you are the reason for the attack and some of those guards back there are being paid by two purses. A daughter of mine changes things because I am also a prince of the royal line who could one day wear the King’s crown. I’d refuse it, but I can’t deny I’m born royalty. And your mother was never a servant of the Earl, was she?”
“I’ve thought of it, but no. She was a lady.”
“Your mother helped the queen as a lady in waiting. She was born to an out of favor family that had been stripped of its lands and wealth, but not titles.”
“But I was a slave.”
“You were an orphan and considered a bastard child.”
“But my mother was more?”
“Yes, a maiden, of royal blood. Her family lost their lands, position, and power a hundred years ago in a political dispute, but that is no matter. The point is, she was of royal blood. As my daughter, you will be a princess when the King recognizes you. However, I have no idea how far from the throne you will be. James?”
The knight calculated, using his fingers, first holding up one or two and then letting them rest as he counted. “Five, maybe six.”
“What does that mean?” Hannah asked.
The Mage said, “It means that others have also counted and come to the same answer. I am number four in the line, which means that if the King and two others who are both elderly, in front of me die, only the King’s son is between me and wearing the crown. I would refuse, but that’s of little consolation to my enemies and those immediately behind me on the Royal List. You will be either one, or two, positions behind me, depending on future male births, of course.”
“I don’t understand any of that, but why would they try and kill me?” Hannah asked.
Sir James said, “There is already a number five and six in the royal line. If the King recognizes you, and I’m sure he will, they move down a spot. If you have children, three boys, for instance, they may move down three more places, and if your boys have children, well, you see where this is going.”
“It sounds complicated.”
The Mage said, �
��Only those back at the Earl’s Palace know of you as my daughter. The knowledge of your existence has upset someone powerful and rich. Rich enough to buy all those men back there on the road.”
“I just don’t see why moving down one place is so important,” she said. “I don’t see why they care so much.”
“Neither do I.” The Mage sat on the seat lost in thought, his eyes unfocused and glassy as he tried to figure out who would benefit most from his and Hannah’s deaths. “I’ve never understood why some seek power above all.”
The horses fidgeted as they stood, and Hannah started to climb down and sooth them like Cleanup often did, but Sir James shook his head. “You need to stay in the carriage in case there are others out here looking for us. We may have to escape.”
She looked around again, the fear she’d felt earlier returning. The feeling of helplessness during the attack angered her. If arrows killed the two remaining guards, she and the Old Mage couldn’t avoid capture and whatever came after. She didn’t know how to drive the carriage. “Okay, Sir James, but make me one promise?”
“What is it?”
“When we get to where we’re going, I want you to train me to fight. And shoot arrows. I never want to feel helpless like this again.”
He glanced at the Mage as if asking silent permission, and then back at her. The guard nodded his chin once to her, then went back to watching the forest. A flicker of movement drew the attention of both of them. The younger knight returned, his horse trotting as it panted and wheezed. Both guards ignored the horse, as he rode directly to the white carriage and poured gold and silver coins onto the floorboard from a leather purse. He pulled the second pouch and poured out more. Then a third.
