Darkness Rises: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Rise of Magic Book 6)

by CM Raymond

  “Heart was racing, right?” Olaf asked.

  “Think me damned ticker had stopped by then. Every ounce of adrenalin in me was pumpin’, but still, I knew I didn’t have much left in the tank.” He shook his head, remembering that battle. “They were up, and three advanced fast. I was a goner. And then a blur ran by and remnant brains splashed all over me leathers.”

  “Foul,” Mika said, crinkling her nose. “And awesome. Krayton, right?”

  “Aye. He came into the woods like a god hopped up on some unearthly drug. Just stood with me eyes wide watchin’ the most tremendous act of combat I’ve ever experienced, still to this day.”

  “Damn,” Olaf said, thoroughly impressed by Karl’s story.

  “In less time than it took to wipe me ass, he had all them remnant dead on the ground around me, and he hadn’t so much as broken a sweat. When it was over and me heart started beatin’ again, Krayton looked me in the eyes and said, “Karl, ya got a helluva swing and balls to match, but ya gotta work on yer aim. And…” Karl paused, a grin on his face.

  “And?” Olaf and Mika asked in unison.

  “And…ya got a little shit on yer britches.”

  They all laughed. Olaf slammed Karl on the back. “Not a bad story at all, my friend. But I’ll tell you, that’s why we use these.” He patted the sword on his hip. “Far better than a hammer in battle.”

  Karl snorted. “I was fourteen. Did just fine with me hammer, then and now. It is a superior weapon.”

  Mika laughed. “I was going to offer you my old broadsword, Karl. We felt so bad for you. Olaf thought you couldn’t afford something more than some mining tools.”

  Karl’s cheeks got hot again. “Screw ye and yer sharpened metal. I could teach ye a thing or two.”

  Olaf looked back down the path. Ezekiel and Hannah were only spots in the distance. “Is that right, rearick? Looks like we’ve got some time on our hands with those two walking and talking. What do ya say?”

  Karl patted his hammer. “I’d be happy to show ya the rearick way, Olaf.”

  Shaking his head, Olaf said, “I’ve been fighting with a sword for hundreds of years, Karl. Wouldn’t be a fair fight. I meant you and Mika.”

  The blond beauty from Urai pulled into a defensive pose and drew her sword, which caught the rays of the afternoon sun. “Draw, rearick.” Her sly smile melted away.

  He nodded and unslung his hammer. “My pleasure.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mika held her broadsword straight in front of her, point aimed at Karl’s throat. He leaned casually on his hammer like he hadn’t a care in the world. But the whole time he was sizing her up.

  It was clear she had a muscular frame, even underneath the fur and leathers she wore. Her sword was an extension of her body, unwavering. Karl smiled to himself. This’ll be one hell of a fight.

  She lunged so fast that the rearick nearly missed it, her long body uncoiling like a snake’s. Karl dodged just in time and countered with a vicious upward swing. It was too slow, but it served the purpose of pushing her back. Winning this fight would be all about managing space. And it was clear that Mika had the advantage of reach.

  They started circling. This time Karl held his hammer overhead with both hands. It was a bludgeon, ready to smash anyone foolish enough to get close.

  Once again, Mika used her speed.

  She stepped right, then lunged left.

  Karl spun in response, sidestepping her blow. She raised her sword to block the crushing attack she assumed he would make, but Karl had different plans.

  Instead of swinging downward, Karl used the momentum from his spin. He leaned low—an easy feat for someone his size—and swung the hammer in a wide arc, holding onto the very end.

  Mika tried to leap out of the way, but her foot caught on the hammer’s shaft.

  She tumbled into the dirt, but before Karl could move she was already back on her feet, sword held at the ready.

  They continued at this play. Mika’s agility brought her in fast for attacks, then pulling her away to safety. She clearly outmatched Karl when it came to speed, but the old tactician remained one step ahead of her. He predicted her swordplay at every turn while defending and counterattacking with moves she didn’t expect.

  Both were battle-tested enough to ignore the fatigue setting in. Neither let it weaken their position.

  Eventually Olaf clapped his hands, calling a halt to the sparring.

  “I’d say you two are fairly well matched. Better stop it here before one of you actually lands a blow.” He looked at Karl and grinned. “And I admit that I was wrong. A hammer in the hands of a rearick is not something to take lightly.”

  “You two done playing around yet?” Hannah asked as she and Ezekiel caught up with the others.

  Karl was leaning on his hammer and breathing heavily. His sparring partner Mika looked worn too, but not nearly as badly. She pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I was just getting warmed up.”

  “Me, too,” Karl wheezed.

  They all laughed as the rearick strapped his hammer to his hip and Mika sheathed her sword. Olaf took a sip from his skin and handed it to Karl. “Not bad, right?”

  Karl drank. “The woman or the drink?” He tilted it again, letting the liquid cool his mouth. “’Cause I’d say yes on both accounts.”

  Mika extended her hand. “You were a fine opponent, rearick.” She spat out the weed she’d had in her cheek out. “I’ll be pleased to fight by your side any day.”

  “Aye, lass. I’ll be happy to have ye there instead of comin’ at me from all directions.”

  “The way you moved, it was uncanny. It was like some magic kept you out of my reach. I was clearly the stronger fighter, and yet you had the better position. I reckon that if Olaf had not ended things, your hammer would have drawn first blood.”

  “Aye,” Karl said. “Ye definitely have the better bones for this kind of work. But to be honest, battlin’ the demon monsters or whatever has made ya soft.”

  She looked at him, anger passing over her face for a brief moment before it was replaced by curiosity.

  “How do you mean? The Skrima are stronger than a score of men.”

  “Aye, that’s probably true. But ye know as well as I do that neither speed nor strength beats a clear head. Ye’ve spent so much time fightin’ beasts that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to battle a man. Yer agility might stop a ragin’ hell-fiend, but my mind moves faster than yer sword any day.”

  She considered for a second, then nodded. “I can see the truth in that. Perhaps I should rethink my training regimen.”

  “Aye,” Karl said with a big sigh. “And I should restart mine. If I hadn’t been able to snag ya with me hammer, ye’d have worn me down soon enough. All that flying around in the ship has knocked me out of shape.”

  Ezekiel tapped his staff on the ground. “Yes, well, I’m glad the two of you had fun, but enough play. We need to save our energy for what is to come. When we catch the monster from hell, there will be enough fighting for all of us. Now let’s move.”

  “We’re close,” Olaf said. “A few more rises and we’ll reach Urai.”

  Mika and Olaf took the front and started the march, this time more quickly than before. The longing for home moved Mika, concern for her people being the engine that drove her. The others fell in behind them, with Hannah taking up the rear.

  Watching the hills roll before them, she kept looking at the Archangelsk warriors in the lead. They made her think of Parker and wonder what he was doing at that very moment. For a second she wished she had assigned him to their party, but she knew it would have been a mistake. They needed him back at New Romanov. He would draw the citizens together, and in the case of an attack, he and Hadley would know exactly what to do.

  After an hour or more they climbed a steep rise, and although they were going uphill, Mika’s pace increased. She knew this was it. The last hill before Urai.

  Before she could make it to the to
p, she heard a scream—sadness mixed with rage. She ran to the crest.

  Mika dropped to her knees, and Hannah knew to expect the worst before she reached them. And the worst was bad. Really bad.

  Nestled between two hills sat a small village that would have looked utterly idyllic if it weren’t ravaged by flames.

  “I can’t believe it,” Mika cried. Olaf put his hand on her shoulder.

  “The damned beast,” Ezekiel grunted.

  “Is the thing still there?” Karl asked.

  The wizard shook his head. “No. But there are souls needing our help.” He turned to Hannah.

  She nodded, and her eyes turned as red as Ezekiel’s. With a crack and a flash of Etheric energy the two were gone.

  Lifting Mika to her feet, Olaf pulled her in close. “It’s OK,” he whispered.

  She pushed back. “No. It’s not. Death has visited my people today.”

  “I know. Let’s go help.”

  With that the three of them raced down the hill toward the burning town. As they got close, Olaf could feel the heat coming off the buildings on the outside perimeter. He pointed to their left. “Rearick, you go that way. Buildings first. Pull out as many people as you can. Mika, go straight up the middle. I will go to the right. When we clear the houses, bring the worst-wounded to the center square. We will meet Ezekiel there.”

  “Aye,” Karl shouted as he cut toward a house raging with flames.

  “Go,” he told Mika. “Get to the home of your family.”

  The frailty she had shown on the hill disappeared. Mika was once again the battle-hardened warrior. Without another word she sped off toward the place where she had been raised, dodging rubble along the way.

  Olaf wasted no time heading for the first burning building. People covered in dirt and ash stumbled in every direction. He saw a familiar face and grabbed the man by the sleeve. “Sven!”

  The man’s face was laced with confusion. Blood poured from a gash across his forehead. Narrowing his eyes, he finally recognized his friend from the south. “Olaf?” He shook his head. “We tried to hold off the red monster. Did all we could.”

  Olaf gently placed a hand on his old friend’s cheek. They had become close when Sven was younger. He and his parents would often journey to New Romanov. Olaf had known him since he was knee-high. “I know. I’m sure you did. But now, my friend, you need to focus. We have some healers with us. Grab whoever else you can find with strength to work. We need to get the injured, the worst of the lot, to the square.”

  Sven nodded, his eyes wild. Olaf could only hope that his words had made some sense to him as he ran off into the destruction.

  Turning back to the house on fire, Olaf ran for the door. Using his cloak to protect his hand from the heat of the knob, he gave it a turn and pushed, but it didn’t budge. “Shit. Barricaded.” He stepped back and kicked at the oak again and again. Whoever was on the other side of that door had done all they could to keep the Skrim at bay. It would have done little to keep the beast from entry, but it was enough to keep Olaf out.

  Giving up on getting in that way, he ran around the building to look for a way in—but the residents had been smart. They had done what they could to save themselves from the Skrim, only to hand themselves over to the assault of the fire left in the Skrim’s wake.

  “Help!” a voice screamed from the second-story window.

  He stepped back and saw a girl, her teary blue doe-like eyes begging him for rescue.

  He looked back at the door, and its obstinacy taunted him. Turning back to the window, he held his arms toward her. “Jump! I’ll catch you.”

  Without a word, the girl’s tiny head shook in fear and turned back into the room.

  Smoke poured from the window, causing Olaf to curse the Rift and the devastation it dealt.

  Both hands gripping the rickety downspout, he started to climb toward the dark smoke pouring from the room. He thanked the Matriarch that it held. Grabbing the windowsill, he pulled himself onto the sill before rolling into the room.

  Smoke stung his eyes and filled his nose. The young girl crouched in a corner, her face to the wall as if this might save her from the flames and the stranger in her bedroom. He ripped a sheet from the bed and made a makeshift bandana to cover his mouth and nose. From the heat rising all around him, he knew the fire was spreading. There wasn’t much time. He ran to the girl and crouched by her side.

  “It’s going to be OK,” he said gently. “But I need to know: is there anyone else in the house with you?”

  She nodded. “Daddy,” the girl whispered, tears rolling down her face and making lines in the dark, dirty soot.

  Olaf tore another piece off the cloth and gave the girl her own bandana. “We’ll get your dad next.” Scooping her up, he held her close to his chest and turned to the door, swinging his right foot to kick it down. Flames burst in and danced around them, and the fire scorched his face. He knew the front door was barricaded and the chances of getting out before the smoke and flames won was a long shot.

  Turning, he rushed to the window. “Squeeze my body,” he said to the tiny girl on his chest. She responded with a five-year-old’s version of a bear hug. “Good. Now close your eyes.”

  Olaf swung one leg out the window and then the other. He pushed off the windowsill and held her as the two of them hurtled toward the ground. His legs hit hard, but Olaf ignored the pain. He spun and let the momentum turn him onto his back.

  The girl sat up, staring him in the face. “You saved me.”

  Wincing in pain, Olaf grinned. “Yeah.”

  Her eyes quickly turned back to the house. He knew that her father was all but lost, but he couldn’t ignore those eyes. In a life of hundreds of years, he had seen scores of loved ones perish. He wouldn’t let her down without trying.

  Olaf pointed toward a small group of Uraians who had gathered twenty yards beyond the wreckage. “Join them. I’m going to save your dad.”

  “How?”

  “I just need to make a little change. Go!”

  As she ran, Olaf’s body began to twist and contort. Hair sprang from every pore as a roar filled the sky.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hannah and Ezekiel appeared in the center of the town with a flash like lightning and a crack like thunder. It went unnoticed by the citizens, who were running in every direction, surrounded by burning buildings.

  The Skrim had brought chaos to this little town. The fire must have started during the fight, probably an accident caused by an overturned lantern. The wind sweeping across the plains of Archangelsk had carried the fires throughout the village.

  “The fire is our first priority,” Ezekiel shouted over the clamor. “I’ll stop it from spreading. You put it out.”

  Ezekiel gripped his staff in both hands and held it above his head. She could feel the harsh winds that had been sweeping through the valley die down. When the winds stopped, the fire they were encouraging slowed down.

  Hannah nodded. “Nice work. Now watch what I can do.” She pointed at two larger buildings in the square. Moving her hands in an intricate pattern, she pushed her palms out. A veritable blizzard shot from her hands. She covered the top of the building with layers of ice and then worked her way down from the top to the ground level. When she reached the scorched earth she repeated the pattern, the fire melting the ice and eventually quelling the flames.

  Spinning, she found that Ezekiel had stopped messing with storm magic and had extinguished three buildings in the time she had done one.

  “The hell, Zeke?”

  “Work smarter! You’re going to use up all your energy if you keep going like that, and there are going to be a lot of people who will need us when this is all done.”

  He turned for another burning building and thrust his staff out in front of him. His eyes burned redder than any of the fire that surrounded them as he traced an arc in the direction of the building.

  A blue dome like the defensive force fields they had used in battle many
times formed over the building, like a giant bowl turned upside down. He manipulated his other hand, and the blue field shrank and shifted to hug the lines of the building. Hannah watched as the flames died to nothing in just a few seconds.

  “Damn, Zeke, you suffocated it.”

  He nodded. “Fire needs air. It’s burning hot enough to extinguish itself quickly. But check for people still inside first!”

  Hannah nodded, and without another word she replicated his strategy over and over. First reaching into buildings with her mind to look for wounded, she then set to clearing the fire from as many burning structures as she could.

  ****

  “Mother!” Mika screamed as she dove through the door of her childhood home.

  Thankfully the fires in Urai had not spread to the little house, and since the wind was blowing west to east, they were likely safe from that danger. Her mind was not on the fire or the town, but on the man who lay with his head in the woman’s lap and his body crumpled on the traffic-worn floor boards.

  Her icy-blue eyes, glassy and puffy with mourning, looked up at Mika. Blond hair framed her face, and she looked younger than she was, as if she were Mika’s older sister. She tried to smile at Mika, but dissolved into heaving sobs.

  “Is he…” Mika mumbled with disbelief.

  “Not yet,” her mother said, “but it won’t be long. His breathing is choppy. He’s barely hanging on.” Her face tightened as she tried to stay strong for her daughter, as she had done many times over the past twenty-some years.

  Mika dashed across the room and collapsed with her head on her father’s chest. She wanted to be near him, but she was also paying attention to his vitals, listening to the beat of his heart and feeling his chest rise and fall erratically.

  Her mother spoke smoothly and slowly. “When the beast came, there was chaos. We’d heard reports of these damn things from New Romanov, but almost no one in Urai had ever seen one. It was unreal. I mean literally unreal. People ran screaming, trying to flee the horrific attack. I can’t blame them, I guess.”