Rising of a Mage: Book 03 - A Mage Risen

by J. M. Fosberg

  Grundel looked at Anwar. “We still have quite a ways to go. We will walk, at least until we get to city. From there we will figure out our plan,” Anwar said before he dropped his eyes back to the ground and continued walking.

  Rundo was satisfied. He continued to walk. Concentrating on so many things at once was exhausting. Then it clicked. He needed to stop focusing on what not to focus on. If he would just focus on any one thing then maybe everything else would fade just like peripheral vision. He focused on the horses. Not Bumbo, but the other horses. When he focused on just them everything else became less intense. He could feel the life in the world around them, but it was all in the background. His connection with the horses was strong. Not as strong as the one he shared with Bumbo—that was something more personal—but he could sense them, and he knew that they were calm and rested. The fairy forest had been peaceful for them, and they had been fed something by the fairies. He knew they were thirsty, too, but not anymore than usual. They were always thirsty; he wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it was there. Then he stopped focusing on them, and his awareness of everything else heightened again. It wasn’t nearly as overwhelming. He knew now that this was something he could get used to; it would just take time. He focused on his own eyes, on seeing what was around him with his eyes and not feeling it so deeply. He hadn’t actually thought it was going to work, but it did. He didn’t have to focus on anything: that was part of his new sense; focusing on any of his senses would work. He closed his eyes and concentrated on hearing. He heard a distinct hissing sound. Then he felt the threat in his awareness, the feeling of being threatened, the need to attack.

  Before he could even open his eyes to see the snake his dagger left his right hand. The staff was still in his left. By the time he had opened his eyes and looked to where his dagger had gone the snake was already falling out of the tree. He went over to where the snake lay dead on the ground. It was as big around as one of Grundel’s arms, and at least sixteen feet long.

  “That was an impressive throw. Thanks for saving me, but couldn’t you have just like charmed it or something?” Grundel asked.

  Rundo realized that he probably could have made a connection with the snake, and he might never have had to kill it. He hadn’t even thought to try.

  Anwar stepped up to Rundo. “No, Rundo, you did the right thing. This thing was about to strike. Using a new power that you are unfamiliar with is dangerous enough. This was not the time to test it out. You might have been able to, or you might not. If you had tried and failed, Grundel would be dying from the poison in his veins right now. Take it from me. If it comes down to using something you know or trying something you don’t when someone’s life is on the line, you go with what you know. Just don’t let that keep you from doing what you need to. If what you know won’t get the job done and you think you might be able to get it done by trying something unfamiliar, well that’s a decision you will have to make in the moment.”

  Rundo bent down and cut off the head of the snake. Then he stretched the snake out. He took his knife and made a cut from where he had removed the head all the way down to the tip of the tail. When that was done he pulled the skin away from the meat, muscle, and sinew. He cut a big chunk of the meat off and wrapped it in a piece of leather. The skin he rolled up and strapped to the outside of the pack.

  Anwar went and calmed the horses. When he was finished he waited patiently staring toward the light that was shining not far ahead of them. They were almost out of the forest.

  Grundel watched the whole time. He was curious and disturbed all at the same time. He was curious about what Rundo was going to do with the skin, and disturbed because he was pretty sure what the plan was for the meat. He waited until Rundo was finished before he asked his questions.

  “What did you cut its skin off for?” he asked.

  “I killed it. I don’t want to leave it. The least I can do is not let its death be pointless. Snakeskin makes really nice leather. Some places can even treat it and make really nice boots. I will use the leather to make something. Whatever I can’t use I will sell,” Rundo replied.

  “What about the meat you wrapped up in that leather, what are you going to do with that?” Grundel asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “I’m gonna cook it when we stop tonight. Snake is actually pretty good,” Rundo replied.

  As they walked Rundo stopped occasionally to inspect a log here and there. Finally he chose one that was about eight feet long. With Rundo’s help he lifted it up onto the back of one of the horses and strapped it down.

  “What is the log for?” Grundel asked.

  “When we stop I will show you,” Rundo replied.

  A few minutes later they walked out into the sunlight. The city was still miles away. As they walked, Rundo went back and forth from focusing on his normal sight and pushing the connection into the background, to allowing the connection to be strong. Then he would focus on a certain part of the connection. He reached out to a rabbit that was hiding under a bush and was able to get it to hop up to him unafraid. That was a huge step for him. He hadn’t commanded it, but he had calmed it and somehow persuaded it to come to him. Once it did he reached down and scratched the back of its neck before letting it hop away.

  They decided to stop with the city still a few miles away. The sun was starting to go down, and there was a spot with a little camp already made. It was obviously used regularly. There was a circle of rock, and logs around it. The logs had been used a number of times and one of them had even been carved on. It had smooth notches cut in it, making it more comfortable to sit on. A different person had made each of the notches, which was obvious by the amount of skill in each groove. One was smooth and looked very deliberate where as the other two looked like they had been done much more hastily. They were still smoother and better then sitting on a rough round log, but they didn’t have the clean, smooth look of the first seat.

  Rundo wanted to try his connection with Bumbo again but he needed to get the snakeskin stretched first.

  “Grundel, you mind helping me with that log?” Together they unstrapped the log and carried it over in front of the smoother notch.

  “You mind rounding one end of the log off with your axes?” Rundo asked.

  Grundel hit the end at an angle a couple times, and then he rolled it over and did the same on the other side. Then he ran his blade over it a couple of times to smooth it out some. “Now what?”

  “Now we take the rest of the bark off.” Most of the bark had long since fallen off, so it didn’t take much work for him to have the log smooth.

  Rundo took the snakeskin off of his pack and laid it over the log. He dug through three saddlebag pouches before finding the one with the horseshoe nails in it. He took it and the small hammer back to the log. He set the end of the skin at the end of the log and put a nail into one corner. Next he pulled the other side of that end tight and put a nail in it. With Grundel’s help they pulled the skin tight over the length of the log. He put two more nails in it. They rolled the log over and pulled the skin tight over the end. They repeated the process on the other side. The skin came up two feet short of the end of the log.

  “Now that the skin is pulled tight we leave it alone for a couple of days. Then we will rub all the scales and dirt off of it. I’ll wait to tell you what we have to do after that until we get to it. Now that that is done, I am going to experiment with my connection with Bumbo, if you don’t mind.”

  “Go for it. I can keep an eye out,” Grundel replied. They both looked over at Anwar, who was lying on the ground staring at the sky.

  Rundo went over to Bumbo. He could feel the horse’s awareness as he approached. He was happy. Somehow he understood what they were about to do.

  Chapter Twenty

  Trouble in Kampar

  Stregone walked into the throne room of the Kampar palace. Although there were a dozen buildings in Ambar that were as big as this palace, none other had a throne room filled with
gold. The throne itself was a big, gaudy, gold thing, and there were a dozen thirty-foot tapestries hanging from ceiling to floor all around the room. Each of those had to have cost a fortune in itself. There were golden tables against the walls on either side of the room, and on each of those were arranged half a dozen cups made of gold. The wine and water pitchers were all crystal. This king was a man who liked to flaunt his wealth. The problem with men who liked to spend money is that they could never have enough. This was an easy thing for the Black Dragons to exploit.

  Stregone went to one knee a dozen paces from the throne. “Your Highness, I am Stregone of the Black Dragon guild. I have come here with a proposal for you.”

  “Stand. I have been waiting for you. I was informed that you would be coming and that you would be offering me a fortune. Well, let’s get to it, then. What is this fortune going to cost me?”

  Stregone stood and stared at the king. He was a very fat man. His stomach hung so far over the belt of golden rope that held his robe shut that you couldn’t even see it in the front. He had a thick black beard that was meticulously trimmed. His greasy black hair was all combed back to the nape of his neck. He had fat hoops of gold hanging in each ear. Thick golden ropes hung down from his neck and rested on his belly. Stregone watched as the king drank from his golden goblet and dark wine ran down into his beard, and dripping onto his fine, golden silk robe with purple embroidery.

  “Your Highness, we are offering you ten thousand gold plugs to do you a favor. All we ask is that you provide us with a little information.”

  The kind handed his golden cup to a woman standing next to the throne. He pulled himself forward and rested his hands on his knees. “What is this so-called favor, and what information are you looking for?” the fat king asked.

  “To give you the summary: We want to take into custody anyone who has ever been associated with Anwar Alamira and his companions. When we do we will hold them hostage. The word has already been sent out that people in this city will start dying in Anwar’s name if he does not come. All you need to do to receive this payment is provide us with some names, and we will give you ten thousand gold plugs, and rid you of Anwar Alamira forever.” He saw one of the guards behind the throne shift his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, but he ignored him.

  “So you set this plan in motion without consulting me? You have already sent out word. And you want my permission to kill the people of my city. Is that correct?”

  “To put it bluntly, Your Highness, yes.”

  “Twenty thousand gold plugs,” the king responded.

  Stregone was tired of groveling for this fat fool. “Your Highness, I have thirty Black Dragon wizards and another thirty assassins. I came here to do you a favor and I have ten thousands golden plugs for you.” He could only hope the king was smart enough to understand the threat. The anger that flashed across the man's face as his jaw tightened and his eyes bulged showed that he was.

  “Ten thousand plugs will do. I will have them before I allow you to do this in my city. Where are they?”

  Insolent fool. Like he could do anything to stop us. Stregone turned and nodded to his man waiting at the door. The man disappeared into the hall for a minute and returned followed by ten men carrying five chests.

  “Here is your gold, Your Highness. If you would be so good as to let us know when we could be expecting those names?”

  “I know the names you want. At least enough to get you started. First are the two guild masters. They have been a pain in my side. It will be good to be rid of them. Gabriel and Gibbins are their names. Next is the blacksmith shop called the Lost Rose. It was Anwar’s brother’s before he ran off. The men that work it are still his friends. Finally is one of my guard captains. His name is Captain Eric. He assisted Anwar in creating the huge monuments outside the walls. He helped them start that without my knowledge so that by the time I got there I would be the bad guy if I stopped him. If you get those men, you will have what you need and you can get more names from them if you need to. Now if you will be on your way, I have other business.”

  Stregone bowed to the king before he turned and walked out. That man was going to die before he left this city.

  It didn’t take long to find the blacksmith shop. Stregone walked in and looked around. There were only two men working at the time. “Were either of you here when Cannen Callimorsi owned this shop?”

  “I was his apprentice before he left,” the teenage boy said so proudly.

  Stregone reached out with his magic. A black line of dark energy wrapped around the boy. He wasn’t nearly as powerful as Vingaza, who could control a dozen lines of dark energy, but he could control one, two if he had to, and that was more then most Black Dragon wizards could do.

  He nodded to the assassin next to him and the man walked through the shop toward the other blacksmith. The man turned around and grabbed a sword off the wall. When he turned around the assassin was already there. The knife slid into the man's throat,and up into his brain. The sword fell from his hands. When the Dragon pulled his knife free and let go of the front of the man's shirt, he fell to the ground dead. A wet spot spread down the front of the boy's pants and then he started to cry. Stregone nodded his head toward the boy and the assassin clubbed him in the back of the head with the hilt of his dagger. The boy went limp. Stregone released his magic and the boy fell to the ground. The assassin picked him up and they walked out of the shop.

  Stregone stood in front of the combined guild of Kampar. Inside held the city’s wizards’ and priests’ guilds. The city couldn’t even get that right. Standing spread out down the street were thirty Black Dragon wizards and thirty more Black Dragon assassins. He didn’t want to go into this situation overconfident. People had given them plenty of space, but he saw that people were watching from their supposed safe distances. One of the other wizards brought him one of the apprentice priests.

  “I know you are watching. Listen well: I have a message for your guild masters.” He picked up the unconscious smith and cut his throat. Then he pointed his bloody knife at the man being held next to him. “If they do not come out in the next ten minutes this apprentice will lay in the street next to this smith. Every five minutes after that we will pour someone else’s blood onto this street. Don’t try to fight. I have thirty trained battle wizards and thirty more assassins out here.”

  It took only three minutes before two men came walking out side by side. They looked the part. The taller one spoke first. “I am Master Gabriel. What is it you want with us?”

  Stregone had made his point. These men weren’t going to let people die, so there was no harm in just telling them the truth. “You are going to be my hostages. You are what will ensure that Anwar Alamira comes here.”

  The tall one actually had the audacity to smile.

  “Is something funny, old man?”

  “Just that you are setting a mousetrap for a bear.”

  “For that, you will die last. I will kill the others while you watch.” Both men were knocked unconscious and carried off. They weren’t even to the end of the street when a squad of soldiers came running down the street.

  “What is the meaning of this?” asked the big man in the center.

  “What is your name?” Stregone asked.

  “I am Captain Eric. Are you the one who killed that man?”

  “Well, that was easier then I expected. I thought I was going to have to come looking for you. I am Stregone of the Black Dragon guild and you need to come with me.” His words were followed by the click of a dozen crossbow bolts being released, and the soldiers around Eric fell to the ground dead or dying. One had taken a bolt in the shoulder; another took one in the hip, and a third had been able to get his shield up in time to stop the bolt aimed for him.

  “Stand down, men,” Eric told his remaining soldiers. “We will go with them. We would all be dead before we could even get to them.”

  Dragons tied them up and led them to the center of town, wher
e the guild masters were being led.

  When Stregone arrived at the large square where performances were held and declarations were made, his Black Dragons were already putting men into pillories. These pillories were tall. The king here really was a prick. The pillories in Ambar were low enough that when they were closed down around a man's neck and arms his knees could rest on the ground. They were meant to hold a petty criminal for days so that he could be humiliated and everyone would know his face as the face of a criminal. These pillories were tall so that the men would have to stand. These types of pillories were intended to torture an individual or hold them in place while they were whipped. A man’s own strength and willpower would determine how long he would be able to stand in these, but if the average man was left in one for more then a day, his legs would start to give out and his own body weight would end up choking him to death. Not that he minded how anyone who was weak enough to be held in a device like a pillory felt.

  The pillory would hold only the wizards’ guild master because he was mentally weak. He could escape it easily enough, Stregone knew, but he also knew that Gabriel woud allow his own morals to hold him captive. Gabriel would not escape, because he knew others would suffer and die in his place.

  In total, Stregone had the two guild masters, the guard captain, and the three soldiers who had been with him. He instructed his men to have five new pillories built by nightfall. The soldier who had been wounded in the hip would not make it that long, Stregone guessed. He would be the first to die waiting for Anwar Alamira to save him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Back in Freeman

  Rundo had sat down. After he had first connected with Bumbo he had nearly fallen over. He was seeing through the horse’s eyes. The horse didn’t see the way people did. He could see just as clearly, possibly even better. It was just much different. Looking through Bumbo’s eyes gave him a headache, but he pushed through it.