Knight's Creed: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 1)

by P. J. Cherubino

  Moxy came over with a brown, earthenware bottle. “It works better when it’s hot, but drink one of these every day for a month, and you should be better. Providing you stay away from the drugs.”

  “Can I at least drink?” he asked.

  She scrunched up her nose. “The medicine doesn’t work as well. Just don’t get drunk.”

  “I swear,” Astrid said. “If you trade opium for alcohol, I’m gonna beat your ass something fierce.”

  “OK, OK,” Gormer said, holding up his hands. “I get it. Shit…” Moxy turned to walk away. “Hey, Moxy?” The pixie turned at the sound of Gormer speaking her name, clearly expecting some nonsense. “Thank you for this. I owe you.”

  “You do,” Moxy said with a smile. “So, come back tonight with the information we need.”

  “Tarkon will be going with you,” Astrid said.

  Gormer opened his mouth to object, but one stern look from Astrid silenced him.

  “Understood,” Gormer muttered as he walked away.

  “Drink this,” Moxy said, after she popped in and out of the workshop.

  “What is it?” Astrid asked.

  “The elixir,” Moxy said.

  “Oh, no,” Astrid said. “You’re not testing that shit on me…”

  “You surprise me, Astrid,” Vinnie said, pointing the leather bulb full of pepper spray at her.

  “Don’t you do it…” she warned.

  “Here it comes,” Vinnie replied with a devious smile.

  “Motherfucker!” Astrid said, downing the liquid just before Vinnie sprayed her in the face.

  The spray burned for a second or two, but as the sweet elixir reached her system, the burning stopped.

  “Now it tastes… just a little bitter! Moxy, that is amazing. How long will it last?”

  “Um,” Vinnie said. “We need you to find out for us.”

  “Asshole,” Astrid said. “You want me to leave it on me, don’t you?”

  Vinnie nodded. “When it starts to burn, I need to hit you again to make sure.”

  “Damn it,” Astrid said.

  She walked over to the barrels of water and jugs of milk and waited for the pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Recon Mission to Keep 52

  Tarkon and Gormer headed out on foot a few hours before dusk so they could arrive at the keep in darkness. They stuck to the least-traveled paths according to the instructions of the heavily camouflaged patrols who stalked the way.

  One of the bandit patrols popped out of the brush, startling both Gormer and Tarkon alike. “This is the end of our territory. It’s about an hour walk to the keep.”

  “OK,” was all Gormer said, Tarkon choosing to remain silent.

  They walked on a bit before Gormer asked. “You’re angry that you didn’t see her, aren’t you?”

  “Stay out of my head,” Tarkon growled.

  Gormer restrained himself from provoking the man with the firearms who was suddenly his partner on a deadly mission.

  “Sorry,” Gormer said. Tarkon snapped his head at him and glared. Then, he softened when he saw Gormer meant it. “I wasn’t in your head. It was just an observation.”

  “Good,” Tarkon said. “Make sure you don’t.”

  They walked on in silence, taking care with their steps. Night came upon them as they came to the Toll Road. They took cover in some brush near a path that was well traveled by Jank’s men. They had learned to read the signs from Vinnie.

  “I need to read them before we take them out,” Gormer said. “It might take some doing.”

  Tarkon nodded his head, and they waited, but it didn’t take long. The mercenaries neared, and Gormer’s eyes turned white as he probed their minds. The splitting pain that usually took him didn’t show up.

  He almost lost the connection at the thrill. He had never been able to do this before without risking his life. He let himself relax and let go of expectations. A mind will try to protect itself. To enter one, you have to have empathy—to feel what the other person feels.

  He had to join with another person. That was the scariest part, but he did it. He tried not to think about what must happen after.

  Doing so nearly tipped his hand. But this one had the information they needed. He had discussed the murderous plans of Jank and Clarence only the day before. He saw what they planned to do. He experienced the depraved, murderous fantasies alive in those men’s heads.

  He set aside his sense of judgement and rage, and probed longer until he found what he was looking for. Then, he retreated.

  “Take them out,” Gormer said in a barely audible voice.

  They stalked their prey more silent than house cats. The two men didn’t stand a chance. One took a crossbow bolt from Gormer to the back of the head. The other found Tarkon’s dagger in the base of his skull the instant before he died.

  “No blood in the armor,” Gormer said as he dragged his man into the woods. “Lucky me.”

  “Shut up,” Tarkon hissed. “Take the armor and hide the bodies.”

  “You’re killing my buzz,” Gormer said.

  “Are you—”

  “Relax,” Gormer said. “Just an expression.”

  They had talked too much already. Gormer was worried about the break in noise protocol. They paused a moment to listen, then stripped the bodies bare.

  There was no doubt the bodies would be found. Leaving them under a pile of leaves would just delay the inevitable.

  “Are you sure we can just walk right in there?” Tarkon asked.

  “Yes,” Gormer replied, casually. “But not if you keep planting seeds of doubt. I fucking got this.” His eyes turned white again and glowed as he stepped out onto the Toll Road like he owned it.

  They came across a keep guard of three men. Gormer gave them a curt nod. The men didn’t bother to answer. They averted their eyes with obvious disgust and kept on walking.

  When they were out of earshot, Gormer said, “The regular keep soldiers hate these guys.”

  “They’re not soldiers. But this is a good thing. They might be easy to win over,” Tarkon said.

  “I need to concentrate now,” Gormer said as they neared the gate.

  “You two are early,” one of Jank’s men said. He looked older and in charge.

  “We have news,” Gormer said. There was a pause as he reached into the man’s mind for answers. “Captain Gorse,” Gormer added.

  “Are you two drunk?” the Captain asked.

  “No, sir,” Gormer answered. “Just trying to restrain our enthusiasm.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Captain Gorse asked.

  Gormer froze in place and his illusion nearly snapped.

  “Jank must have nailed your assholes good for your stupid comment around Lieutenant Clarence.”

  “That he did,” Gormer said.

  “I don’t know why you’re smiling, then,” the Captain said.

  Gormer wasn’t smiling. He had no idea why the illusion manifested that way. He tried not to think about it. The illusion seemed to be taking on some life of its own. He went with it.

  “We don’t want to be late, or we’ll get more,” Tarkon said.

  They walked away quickly. The captain seemed to respond to something they didn’t even say. “Don’t I know it,” he said. “Right you are. See you on the raid.”

  They made their way to the main administration building. Gormer tried not to focus on the basement stairs he was dragged down not too long ago into the basement jail.

  They strode through the main doors, past the sentry who glanced at them and nodded them along. They hurried up the marble stairs to the top floor. When nobody was around, Gormer grabbed Tarkon’s arm and ducked into an empty room.

  He took a knee and let out a tense breath. “Fuck, I almost lost it.” He wiped his nose, but found no blood.

  “If you can’t keep the illusion going, we won’t make it out of here,” Tarkon said, matter-of-factly.

  “You are such a fucking fantast
ic motivational speaker. Thank you so fucking much,” Gormer said, standing up on rubbery legs.

  Tarkon adjusted his pistols and checked the projectiles in his pockets. He listened at the door while Gormer steadied himself.

  Gormer closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He heard Astrid’s voice from the forest telling him to relax. It made him calm, and his eyes turned pure white again. He pushed past Tarkon, who followed him back out into the hallway.

  They made it to the top floor, and Gormer stopped in the middle of the hallway as if something startled him. “Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

  “What?” Tarkon asked. “We need to keep moving.” He sounded nervous.

  “I can feel him,” Gormer said. “Feels like taking a bath in cold pond water.”

  Tarkon looked around, then found the closest door and pressed his ear against it. He grabbed Gormer and pulled him in. Their luck held. The room was empty.

  “He’s in the next room,” Gormer said, then let go of the illusion. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m starting to feel sick.”

  “You’ve gotten us this far,” Tarkon said. “You can do it.”

  “How the fuck do you know?” Gormer said.

  Tarkon whirled on him and grabbed him by the shoulders. His fiery brown eyes skewered Gormer to the spot. “Because I believe in Astrid, and she believes in you. You’re far stronger than I gave you credit for. I was wrong about you, and I hate being wrong, so do this and show me how wrong I was.”

  “Oh, Tarkon,” Gormer said, “you manly beast. Or is that beastly man?” He blew Tarkon a kiss and for the very first time, Tarkon’s face broke and he gave a choking laugh.

  “You really are an asshole,” Tarkon laughed.

  “But I made you laugh, which was my real mission all along. This shit’s gonna be easy. Just make sure nobody comes in here and if they do…”

  “On it,” Tarkon said and plastered his back against the wall by the door.

  Gormer lay flat on the floor on his back and closed his eyes. When he let out a breath and drew another, the sound of hundreds of voices in his head seemed to launch him into some bizarre orbit. He felt an instant of terror that quickly faded to wonder. He heard the random thoughts of people going about their lives.

  He could feel them, but he was looking for one particular mind. At first, he could only catch the thoughts that people threw away. Someone was hungry. Another wanted to get drunk. Many were worried about pleasing or displeasing their superiors.

  It was only by following the trail of fearful thoughts that he was able to focus in on their cause. Clarence, in the next room, was his target. He closed in on that diseased mind like a man with a spear hunting a tiger.

  And like hunting a tiger, the mind was somehow aware of him. Gormer backed off, feeling his way in. Then, he realized what scared him the most. He recognized the thoughts and feelings from Clarence because they shared so much of the same loathing and hatred.

  He let his own thoughts and judgements go and allowed the sick tiger thoughts to envelop him. Then, he was inside.

  A few seconds later, Gormer spasmed as if he was shocked by lightning. He rolled over onto all-fours and puked.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “I am that sick. Fuck, I’m that guy. Oh, fuck me… ”

  Tarkon scooped him up, forced him to his feet and slapped him twice across the face, hard. “I don’t give a fuck what you are. We need to get out of here. Pull it together. I’ll be here for you later, but I need you to get us out of here now.”

  “You love her,” Gormer said. “You have since the first second you saw her. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your head. It just sort of—”

  “I really do,” Tarkon said. Gormer was shocked again. “For the first time since I became the Forge, I care whether I live or die.”

  “Brother,” Gormer said with a smile. “Not a damn thing wrong with that. In fact, I finally see you’re not a machine. Let’s get out of here.”

  But it wasn’t so easy. Gormer closed his eyes again, but when he opened them, it felt like someone rammed a sword through his head. Blood streamed from his nose. “Shit… there goes the rest of my fucking brain.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Tarkon said, looking desperately around the room as if the answers were somewhere at hand.

  “I think I can do a little something,” Gormer said.

  “No. I have instructions,” Tarkon said.

  “You what?”

  “Nevermind. We’re wasting time,” Tarkon tried to deflect.

  “I can go in there and get it. Might kill me, but curiosity is a bitch.”

  Tarkon paused a moment. “Astrid told me to make sure you come back.”

  “She told me the same damn thing!”

  Tarkon cocked his head. “Leadership trick.”

  “Tricky bitch, she is,” Gormer said. He went over to the window. “Look. I promise not to die, OK? I think I can trick people into seeing shadows over there.” He pointed to the corner of the keep.

  “Hmm,” Tarkon said.

  “Now, what the fuck does ‘hmm’ mean,” Gormer asked.

  “It means I think I can start a fire over there. I can only cast fireballs about fifty feet away. I can blow up anything within five feet, but it takes a lot of energy.”

  “I’m not looking for your fucking curriculum vitae,” Gormer said.

  “My what?” Tarkon asked.

  “Ah, not sure. Thought it sounded cool. Has to do with job skills or something. Anyway, can you do it or not?” Tarkon hesitated. “Oh, come on.”

  Tarkon pushed him aside and poked his head out the window. Black smoke began to rise up from the roof of an outbuilding in the corner of the keep.

  “Shit, wait for me,” Gormer said, joining Tarkon in the window. His eyes went white once again, and he imagined running with a group of bandits through the keep.

  “I see them!” a voice shouted. “Five of them!”

  “They went that way!” another voice shouted.

  Alarm bells rang as feet pounded the floor outside.

  “We slip in with them,” Tarkon said.

  Gormer wiped the blood from his nose and smeared it on the walls. “We raise the alarm then help them look for us. I fucking love it!”

  They waited for the feet to pass the door, then pushed through and followed the men who were too focused on the enemy to see them right behind.

  Tarkon and Gormer simply ran through the gates.

  “There they are!” Gormer shouted.

  Tarkon shot him a ‘what the fuck’ look. Gormer jumped up and down and pointed into the woods while three of Jank’s best mercs ran up to him.

  “They broke my fucking nose!” Gormer said, pointing at his bloody lip.

  “Go get that seen to!” one of the men shouted. “We’ll gut those fucking animals!”

  Tarkon pretended to help Gormer, then they both hustled into the woods in the opposite direction when the men ran the other way.

  A few hundred feet into the woods, they went into stealth mode again. They spent way too much time looking for the place where Tarkon stashed his own armor, but Gormer didn’t complain until the Man of the Forge made like he was about to put it on.

  “Buddy,” Gormer said. “Carry that shit. We got to go!”

  “You’re right. I just hate this armor.”

  “Not any more than I hated being inside the mind of that sick, sick twisted fuck.”

  “You have a point there,” Tarkon said.

  It was slow going back to the bandit camp. They arrived around two in the morning and slept until dawn. Astrid woke them both and asked for the report. Gormer made sure to wash the blood off his face before he went to sleep.

  “What did you find out?” Astrid said.

  Gormer thought about being a smart ass before the report, but for once, restrained himself. “They suspect we’re trying to trick them. They don’t know where this camp is, but they’re looking for it. They’re focusing most of their resource
s on finding the caves.

  It’s the core of their strategy. They’re hoping that if they just slaughter a whole tribe, the rest of the tribes will either try to run or hole up. Either way, they are raising funds to hire more mercenaries to kill every last bandit they can find. They’ll send every merc they have to the caves as soon as they find them.

  “After that, they plan to occupy all the villages in the Eastern District.”

  “And you got all this from a few seconds in this guy’s head?” Tarkon asked.

  “Yes. We live lifetimes of thoughts from moment-to-moment,” Gormer replied. “I need a fucking catnap.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Plans and Schemes

  “It’s been two days,” Vinnie said. “We’re closer to a solution for a delivery system.”

  “Delivery system?” Astrid said, cocking her head.

  “It’s a term from the New Ancients. We have special barrels we can put a lot of pressure in.” Vinnie pointed to a barrel laying on its side that was strapped to a two-wheeled cart. A hand pump was mounted in the middle. A long coil of hose was connected to a nozzle on the face of the barrel.

  “Is that… some kind of leather rope?” Astrid said, pointing to the coil.

  “No,” Vinnie replied. “It’s a leather hose. Heavy as hell and cumbersome, but it will stand up to at least one use before it leaks.”

  “What does this contraption do?” Astrid said, walking around the barrel.

  “It’s much like a standard cask,” Vinnie said. “But Pleth came up with this idea—”

  “Pleth!” Astrid exclaimed.

  “I’m just as surprised as you. Pleth came up with the idea to use a special wood that’s harder and more resistant to liquid. Then they placed three times as many straps around the barrel. We can get a few hundred pounds of pressure into this thing with a handle that works in reverse. You pump the handle to charge it up.” Vinnie picked up the hose and showed her a copper snout with a wood clamp squeezing the hose behind it. “When you pull off this clamp, it makes a fine mist that will fill up an enclosed space with pepper spray.”

  “You are just so happy with yourself,” Astrid said.