The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  “What?”

  “He said something about ‘metal men’ … and look, you have those suits of armor there, so he was definitely on to something!”

  He briefly turned to the suits as the commanders talked amongst themselves, then turned back to Callie with a mystified look. “Jonas said this?”

  “Yes, so come with me, please …”

  He could only stare at her before Maclean said, “We don’t have time to dally here! Kane, just ignore her and keep up the barrier. That’s an order.”

  As the commanders headed away, Callie looked at Kane with pleading eyes while laying an open hand on the barrier. “We don’t have much time. Jonas said you were going to die in this meadow, and you know he’s one of the Three Roses. Maybe that counts for something.”

  Kane tried to stay true to his convictions, but he had a hard time of it. There was such concern in her voice and body language, and he couldn’t quite see her making up a story like that. And she was right, he believed Jonas was one of the Three Roses, and although he couldn’t see what made the man so special besides the tattoo and his simplicity, there had to be something about him that King Hugo desired. Perhaps he was a soothsayer …

  Or perhaps Callie was using Jonas as a way to deceive him. Perhaps she was actually working for the Lonsarans, and they were using her to disrupt the ritual.

  But that line of thinking didn’t make much sense. Besides, after she had saved his life from Clan Selmas back in the city, he had sworn he would never doubt her intentions again. Why start now?

  “Are you sure this is no mistake?” he cried.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know how Jonas knew, but he was right about the meadow and the metal men. I doubted him but now I believe, and you should, too. Come with me!”

  He looked back at the mages pouring their magic into the suits, giving their all to ensure victory for their nation in this godforsaken war. He had trained with them, fought with them, broken bread with them … if he abandoned them now, there would be no going back, and he’d be beset with guilt for the rest of his life for committing something truly unforgiveable.

  But if Callie was right, perhaps desertion was the best choice to make. There would be nothing to gain by dying here, and perhaps there was something about the golems that only Jonas knew about, as unlikely as it seemed.

  He looked into her eyes, and as he recalled all the times he had spent with her, he realized he was indebted to her a number of times over whether he liked it or not. He only wished he didn’t have to pay off that debt by defying orders and risking corporal punishment.

  He shut his eyes and clenched his staff, allowing a moment to himself—a moment of peace and reflection. He then held his head up, walked through the barrier as only a mage could, and dropped the spell, effectively locking him out of the great dome and leaving the burden to the other eleven Shieldbearers.

  “Quick, follow me,” Callie said. Kane was glad to see she wasn’t smiling at getting her way; she was taking this situation as seriously as he was. If she did smile, he would have had a sinking feeling there was more to this strange twist of fate than what it appeared to be.

  Master Maclean studied the magic flow on the westernmost armor for the umpteenth time and nodded in satisfaction. It hadn’t been fair to spring this task on his men so suddenly, but he knew he could count on them. In thirty minutes at most, the Mage Corps will proudly display four fully functional golems, which will tear down the enemy’s dam with little resistance—and that was only the beginning. Should the golems remain stable, they can be used to take down an enemy fort to the northeast, allowing the army to press on deep into Lonsaran, taking the battle to the enemy’s heartland. And should they find enough metal in that fort, why not make a few more golems?

  He told the men to keep up the good work then ambled down the line with his hands behind his back … and that’s when he witnessed Kane run from the barrier with that rambling idiot of a girl.

  “You! Get back here!” bellowed Master Lambert with his hands cupped around his mouth.

  Maclean tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. “Let him go. We’ll deal with him later.”

  Lambert scoffed. “That’s if we find him.”

  Maclean only nodded and continued on his way, looking at the retreating young mage with sorrow and confusion in his eyes. Kane had been a troubled man, as were many others, but he had been mostly obedient. His shortcoming was that he was unambitious, but at least he was polite and attentive. Kane didn’t quite have the air of a future deserter, but then again Maclean wasn’t very surprised to see him go. The poor man had nearly died and spent some time in a temporary hospice, and this was after he had seen a good friend perish before his eyes. Plus it was a woman who told him to desert, and the source of folly of many men both great and small usually was a woman.

  He sighed and told himself not to fret about it. The dome barrier will remain up without him, and the golems will be finished without any—

  He stopped himself at the sound of scraping metal. The suit just right of the middle had suddenly raised its arms, and a pair of burning red spots appeared within the helmet where a man’s eyes would be. The helmet shook a few times then pivoted left and right, analyzing its surroundings. The mages who were working on it halted their ritual and stepped back in alarm.

  Maclean went up to Master Shriver, who was supervising the suit, and grasped his shoulder. “What’s going on? It shouldn’t be moving yet.”

  “I don’t know,” Shriver said, a bit slackjawed. “It shouldn’t be.”

  “You’re damn right it shouldn’t be; it hasn’t gone through fortification yet.” “Fortification” was the process that stabilized the magical workings inside the suit, making the golem’s guts invulnerable to magical attacks. Without fortification, the golem was as wide open as a lone duck in the middle of a pond.

  Master Shriver rolled up his sleeves and hesitantly stepped up to the golem, trying his best not to be intimidated by its size and rather sinister-looking visage. It paid him no heed as he grew near, but it didn’t seem about to walk away as it shuffled its feet and worked its metallic fingers and wrists like a newborn child.

  Shriver pointed at the golem and cried, “Your name is Talor. We are Consarians, your masters. Stay where you are, and someone will look at you. We need to see if—”

  Within the space of a breath, the golem raised its arms and clapped its hands together. In between those mighty hands was Shriver’s head, which cracked open like a grape between teeth. Blood squirted high into the air, and the lifeless body fell like a practice dummy with its support yanked away.

  Nearly every mage recoiled and cried out in horror, and many stopped their flow of magic on the other golems. For his part, Maclean didn’t know what to do except stand where he was, stunned. A fellow commander had been murdered by one of their living weapons, and he couldn’t have seen it coming in a million years.

  The golem wasn’t finished: With a speed that belied its girth, it stepped forward and grabbed a young mage by the front of his tunic and tossed him high into the air, where he struck the underside of the dome and fell back down. A few foolish men stared at the flying mage, and the golem turned to one of them and threw a fist at his chest. The man tumbled backward for about three meters, knocking another man aside. Once he stopped, he lied with his eyes bulging from their sockets as his lungs tried to work under his collapsed ribcage. Blood swiftly formed a pool under his tattered uniform.

  “Talor, stop this!” Maclean yelled, mortified yet still willing to salvage this important asset. “Talor, we’re not here to harm you! Just do as we say!”

  The mages tried to stay away from it, but the golem was too fast for them. It backhanded one man with a mighty swing of its arm then grasped another by the head, crushing it with a sickening crunch, his blood and brains squirting in every direction. Those closest to the scene scre
amed as if they’d seen the Devil himself rise from the earth … and perhaps that wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Stop it!” cried Master Runel, his strong, commanding voice heard above all others. “Stop that thing, do whatever you must, just stop it!”

  “No!” Maclean countered, but it was too late as nearly every mage within striking distance readied his staff and hurled fireballs or ice sheets at the metallic menace. He couldn’t fault them for it because something had to be done, but using such spells was a terrible idea. No one knew what unintended consequences there’d be.

  In spite of the sheer number of attacks, the golem barely slowed down as it continued to pummel and strike whoever was unlucky enough to get close. Hysterical screams filled the air as angry fire flew above the flowers, their soft petals marred by blood and guts. A handful of mages attacked the other suits as well, although they seemed content to bear silent witness to the ensuing carnage.

  For long seconds that felt like minutes, there was no end in sight until at last the golem stilled. It had taken too many attacks to the inside of its helmet, so it dropped its arms, unbuckled its knees, and fell on its back with a soft tremor. The mages cheered and clapped each other on the back, only to have their mood spoiled by the grisly sight of the human remains strewn about this once-beautiful terrain.

  The gore hadn’t gone unnoticed by Maclean, but he was more concerned about the state of the golem. While everyone else kept their distance, he stepped in close and peered through its visor. As he feared, it had not simply deactivated, for its burning red eyes still hovered in the darkness of the helmet.

  He held up his hands palms-out as if willing the monstrosity to remain grounded, and he whispered a prayer for nothing more to happen. For a moment, it seemed that God would honor his request … but then the nightmare scenario occurred, as a ball of orange light appeared deep within the helmet and grew in size and intensity. A shrill noise emitted from the light, and it grew louder and more ear-piercing as the golem’s visor and joints burned as brightly as a miniature sun.

  It was the result of a golem’s manufactured soul being struck with too much hostile magic before it was “fortified.” If the soul had been stable, the golem would be a nearly unstoppable force, halted by only the most momentous of physical attacks and the strongest of offensive spells. Instead, it was now reacting badly to the fire and lasers, setting off a chain reaction that would doom them all.

  Dropping the deeply ingrained discipline built from years of being a master of magic and a part-time military commander, Maclean stepped back and yelled, “Oh, fuuuuuuck!”

  And before he could do anything else, he was consumed by a tremendous wave of ravenous flames.

  Six

  They sprinted across the meadow, appreciating the cool breeze on their brows. Only once did Kane look back, to see if they were being pursued, but it appeared the Mage Corps was letting them go. One deserter was of no great concern, and he doubted more would follow his example.

  Once they reached the forest, they stopped to catch their breath. Callie placed her helm atop a bush while Kane held onto his staff with a death grip, and they stood in silence with only the rustle of foliage and twitter of birds around them. Upon further reflection, it wasn’t long before Kane’s heart grew heavy with dread. The decision to flee had been easy for him back in the dome, but now second thoughts cropped up like a foul aftertaste.

  “Please tell me I didn’t make a mistake,” he said, more angrily than he intended. “We’ll be drawn and quartered for this, so please tell me I did the right thing.”

  “Yes, you did,” Callie replied, her tone laced with irritation. “I didn’t come here for no reason. I said, Jonas told me you were going to die in a place with a lot of flowers. I thought he was crazy, but look, he was absolutely right about the flowers.”

  “What did he say was going to happen?”

  “He said it had to do with ‘metal men’ … and he was right about that, too!”

  Kane nearly accused her of making up a story, but he quickly thought better of it and sighed. “I don’t know, Callie … I just don’t know.”

  Callie shrugged. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “No, not yet. Seeing is believing, so I want to stay here and see what happens.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Is it possible Jonas is a psychic? A soothsayer? Have you heard anything about him to that effect?”

  “No, why would I? You’re the one who worked with him, not me.”

  “Well, excuse me, I was just asking.”

  “And I was just pointing out how ridiculous you were for asking.”

  Callie scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Well, dammit, Kane, how can I learn things if I don’t ask? I mean, you’re the one who believed Jonas was one of the Three Roses, so I thought maybe you saw something more to him than just that tattoo.”

  “Well, clearly he’s special … but a soothsayer? Come on, Callie …”

  She rolled her eyes and turned away from him with crossed arms. Kane turned to the meadow, allowing his frustration to simmer down while he thought of something more to say. Apologizing was not an option because he had every right to be mad at her. She got him into this mess and wasn’t giving him any justification for his decision to desert. If only something would—

  A resounding crack sounded from the dome, snapping him from his reverie. He wouldn’t have sensed anything was wrong if not for the sudden swell of horrified voices. He stood for a time with a furrowed brow until he heard more voices echo from across the meadow, at which point he stepped into the array of flowers and peered with a hand above his eyes.

  “What’s going on there?” Callie asked as she stepped beside him. Suddenly out of pithy retorts, Kane could only shake his head in confusion and mounting horror.

  For a time, it seemed like there was a party going on where drunken revelers made mischief and chaos, but it then evolved into a full-blown battle with searing fireballs and angry shouting.

  “That … that’s what Jonas must have seen,” Callie said. “I think the metal suits are … moving?”

  “They’re called ‘golems,’ and yes, at least one of them is. But something’s gone wrong. Dammit, I shouldn’t have left them!”

  “But you should have. Remember what Jonas said.”

  “I don’t care, I need to help them!” He took off running for the dome, leaving a protesting Callie behind. He didn’t know exactly what was happening, but he needed to make amends for leaving the mages. The only problem was figuring out how to get inside the dome. One of the Shieldbearers will have to key him back into the barrier’s magical lattice so he could step through from the outside; after that, he’ll have to join the fight and hope that Master Maclean and the others will forgive him. He may have to lay some blame on Callie, but perhaps if he appealed to their faith in Micah, remind them that the act of forgiveness was one of Micah’s core principles, then perhaps …

  He slowed to a stop when the fighting appeared to end, and he relaxed when the mages cheered in apparent victory. But as relieved as he was, in all honesty he was a little disappointed as well. His chance at redemption was over, so if he continued on, he’d be granted little mercy. Perhaps it was better to return to Callie and attempt a life on the run, and if Micah and the Lord God were good, he’d escape this war and live a simple, quiet life.

  He was just about to turn when he spotted a bright light start to shine within the dome. From behind the barrier’s red glow, it appeared to be a buildup of scarlet energy, and it was coming from a large form lying on the ground.

  Whatever it was, it could not be normal.

  In hindsight, he believed he was a fool for remaining where he was, but curiosity had gotten the better of him and he wanted to see what would happen next. Surely the threat had been dealt with and there was nothing more to worry about …

  But with a terribl
e boom, the dome was suddenly filled with a great blend of fire and smoke, and Kane turned away just before the dome vanished, unleashing the explosion to the surrounding area. He lowered his head just as a strong heatwave struck him from behind, fluttering his hair and cape and making him drop his staff. It was a small miracle he managed to stay on his feet even as handfuls of rock and soil flew into him. He grabbed his cape and covered his head with it as he ran from the scene, his vision impeded by countless flower petals swirling in the air like a frightened school of fish.

  He couldn’t tell how long he ran for, but he stopped when the heat had died down and the wind was less furious. It turned out he had nearly reached the forest, but before he entered, he turned to survey the damage. Where the dome had once stood was a great roaring blaze that was nearly as bright as the sun, topped with a plume of ugly black smoke that rose like a tree snake. Flower petals and ash floated in the streams of hot air, a lovely and surreal vision that would delight a child if it hadn’t been brought about by such senseless destruction.

  For a long while he stood there, barely moving as tears rolled down his reddened cheeks (more from the hot air than from sorrow). That was until he noticed the debris strewn across the meadow, which included mounds of dirt, smoking steel, and hideously charred human remains. There was nothing more to see, and he couldn’t stand to bear further witness before his mind grew too numb from the sheer horror of it all.

  He saw Callie upon reentering the forest but didn’t acknowledge her as he passed by. The skin on his hands and face painfully stung, and petals stuck to his hair and clothing, but he still needed time to process what had just happened before belief could fully set in. Then, using a tree branch to support his shaking nerves, he turned to Callie and said, “They’re really gone. All of them, they’re … gone.”

  She looked nearly as stunned and haunted as he. She hadn’t anticipated this outcome and was similarly at a loss for words. She simply nodded with downcast eyes.