Shades Of Dark: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Hidden Magic Chronicles Book 2)

by Justin Sloan

  Kim thought about it, then nodded. “All right, smiles allowed. Keep being useful, and I might learn to like you. Well, not in that armor.”

  “You trying to get the boy naked now?” Lars asked with mock jealousy.

  “He wishes,” Kim shot back, laughing at the way that Oldran blushed.

  It didn’t take long to board the ship and get ready to set off; soon they were back out on the water. Kim, Andreas, and Lars had gone with Stone, Tina, Alastar, Estair, and Rhona, the rest breaking off to go with the paladins. Alastar had more questions for Oldran, but figured those could wait, for now. The rain was worse here; the wind was picking up, and large waves rocked the boat.

  Lars and Kim were clearly in their element, doing all the sailing while Alastar and Rhona watched in awe at how fast and precise they were in their movements.

  “Can’t you do something about this?” Alastar called to Andreas.

  The Storm Caller nodded hesitantly, then stood at the bow of the ship, his long staff at the ready.

  “I need a cup or a bowl…something!”

  “The hell for?”

  “My staff must touch the water, or I’m no use.”

  Alastar glanced around and spotted a bucket likely used for swabbing the deck, and dipped it over the side. When it was full, he placed it in front of the Storm Caller and nodded expectantly.

  Andreas considered the bucket, placed the end of his long staff into it, and closed his eyes.

  Everyone tensed, waiting to see what would happen. Then suddenly, the rain stopped, but it hit them again a moment later with renewed fury.

  “What the hell was that?” Alastar shouted, leaning into Andreas to be heard over the wind. “Call of the Storm?”

  Andreas, flustered, tried again, and this time his eyes glowed a slight blue-green. But when he looked up and concentrated, all that happened was that the rain went from horrible to not too bad.

  “You might want to just tell them.” Lars chuckled as he wiped his wet forehead with a soaked sleeve.

  “Tell us what?” Alastar asked, waiting.

  The boy’s eyes returned to normal as he pulled the staff out of the water.

  “I’m not exactly a Storm Caller,” he admitted. “Well, not yet, anyway.”

  “How’s that?” Rhona looked up from where she was sitting and holding onto the railing. “How can one not exactly be a Storm Caller?”

  “I was an apprentice,” Andreas answered. “When our ship crashed on Sair Talem and we were stranded, my teacher was among us. Cut off from the sea in search of supplies and food, the remnant got us, and he didn’t make it.”

  Alastar shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought I could try to take his place, but I’m clearly not ready.”

  “But you were learning, right?” Rhona asked. “I mean, maybe if you keep practicing? Keep, I don’t know, concentrating? Try to find your focus?”

  He nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Well, let’s give him space, then,” Lars directed.

  Alastar agreed and went to stand by Lars, watching him guide the ship in the storm.

  After a moment, Rhona shuffled over to them too, eyeing the paladin ship trailing them, not far off now.

  “How many more will join us once they learn what the High Paladin is really up to?”

  “Maybe none,” Alastar answered. “My hope? The whole Order abandons that prick and stands behind us.”

  “You do have the Sword of Light now,” she pointed out. “Whatever that means.”

  He chuckled. “Aye, ‘whatever that means,’ indeed. It’s not a bad sword, truth be told. It’s just not the magical sword we were all led to believe.”

  “Seems like there was a lot we were led to believe,” she replied, turning to him. After a moment, her smile returned. “But we can’t let it keep us down, can we? We can’t live our lives wondering what’s real, what isn’t. Who can be trusted, who can’t.”

  “That’s the path to darkness. And I don’t mean the cool kind of darkness you control with your magic. I mean, you know, the bad kind.”

  “The kind that makes you stub your toe?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Aye, and the kind that makes you go in for a kiss and accidentally bump teeth.”

  Now she laughed, with a glance at Estair, who blushed. “Tell me that didn’t happen to you too.”

  “Considering that I’m pretty sure your brother has never kissed anyone else…” Estair shrugged, doing her best to ignore Rhona’s laughter. “What, nothing like that’s ever happened to you?”

  Rhona stopped laughing, the smile on her face fading as she thought about it.

  “As your brother, I request you please keep this suitable for the ears of small children. And siblings.”

  “And as the girl screwing your brother, I request all the dirty details with a promise that I won’t give any back.”

  Now it was Rhona’s turn to blush, but she responded with a simple, “Yuck. Please do keep that promise.”

  The sails picked up in the strong wind and Lars steered the ship to avoid capsizing, then shouted, “Andreas! Now would be a good time to figure out whether you’re ever going to be a damned Storm Caller or not!”

  “Everyone hold on!” Kim shouted, grabbing a rope and pointing to an oncoming wave.

  Alastar could handle battle. He had dealt with mages, or witches and warlocks, as he once thought of them. He had ventured into the tombs of the dead in lands said to be haunted and cursed, and fought a horde of undead. But this wave terrified him.

  It rose out of the pre-dawn morning like a hand of a great demon, prepared to slam the entire ship into the depths of the sea.

  “BRACE YOURSELVES!” came another shout, and then someone else was shouting—yelling, really—a war cry!

  Alastar glanced around in confusion, and then saw that it was the young Storm Caller, staff back in the bucket of water even as the boat tilted up and the bucket began to spill. He was yelling, eyes glowing, and in that moment there was no doubt—this boy was at his breaking point.

  Another gust of wind gripped the ship, and it seemed as if the wind was pushing back against the water in all directions. The wave kept coming, unfortunately, but the ship sped up, water and wind both pushing it forward, until it hit that wave and went right up and over it.

  With a joint scream from all onboard the ship went careening down the other side, even as the wave crashed behind them.

  Wind and water met in a clash that sent a sound like thunder through the skies and produced a massive explosion of water, and then…

  All was silent.

  The storm had calmed and the waves were gone. There was not a sound, except a clunk as Andreas, the Storm Caller apprentice, collapsed to the deck of the ship.

  By this time Alastar had been able to recover his energy, so he ran to the boy’s side and kneeled there, eyes gold, a warm glow flowing over the boy. With a deep breath and eyes showing amazement, the boy sat up.

  He looked around, confused, then asked, “Wh…what happened?”

  Kim was at his side in an instant, grabbing and hugging him, saying, “You did it! You did it, Storm Caller!”

  When she let him go, the others came up to him and patted him on the back or shook his hand, but finally, Lars remarked, “I hate to break up the fun-fest, but we need you, Storm Caller.”

  Andreas paled at the sight of the waves picking back up, a gust of wind blowing his hair across his face.

  “It was a fluke, an accident. I don’t know how I did it.”

  “That’s how magic starts,” Rhona offered. “Now that you know you can do it, you have to figure out the how.”

  Andreas bit his lower lip, but looking at her and considering what she said seemed to give him strength.

  “Where’s my staff?” he asked, and Estair picked it up off the deck and handed it to him. “And my bucket,” he added, confidence growing. Alastar fetched him the bucket.

  With a nervous smile, Andreas took his po
sition. It wasn’t much, but he managed to keep the waves from getting too carried away this time. Alastar’s stomach was grateful for that, though it was still turning from the chaos they had just survived.

  “Looks like we have a Storm Caller in our party now,” Rhona said with a hopeful smile. “Paladins, mages, and a Storm Caller. Sir Gildon might actually get what’s coming to him.”

  Alastar was sure of it, even if he went alone. He would bring justice to the bastard. But he nodded, appreciating the company.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Master Irdin woke to find himself on the floor of his room, completely clothed. He groaned, every inch of his body as sore as if he had been torn apart and put back together. When he stood, he noticed a different type of discomfort in his pants. Had he pissed himself?

  He found a change of clothes and ran a bath. When he undressed, he saw the dark purple bruises, and it all came flooding back. Except that now he had a clear mind and realized what the white eyes had meant.

  A mystic, of sorts. A twisted, evil mystic, to be sure. Who else would have given him those visions while the other inflicted her evil upon him? He had been so sure it was real… But maybe that was part of the torture? Pain mixed with pleasure, only to discover that the pleasure had never really happened. Or…maybe she had simply given him a way of surviving the pain?

  Not that he needed her help. He had survived torture in his day, all manner of pain during the initiation to join Her Dark Society, the Sorcerers of Gallant.

  The steamy water soothed his muscles and he found himself leaning back, eyes closed, considering what the next attack on Roneland would look like. Once victorious, what then? He hoped they would soon move on to the surrounding lands and farther on, to get this campaign over with.

  He wanted to return to his wife, to be with her once and for all. Little Teisha, who had married him at such a young age, and now waited anxiously for his return. All of this was for her, he told himself. All of the death and destruction, because he meant to return to her with power and money. He would give her the life she deserved, pull her from the hovel he had left her in and plant his seed so she would have the children he knew she longed for.

  When the water had grown lukewarm, he stepped out of the tub, found a towel, and dried himself. He had just pulled his pants up to his waist when a knock came on the door.

  “Enter,” he commanded.

  It was the mystic from the night before. She cocked her head, looking at his bruises like they were art, worthy of admiration.

  “Did you come to gawk at me?” he asked.

  “I was commanded to be sure you weren’t in a coma,” she said, hands held behind her back in a way that made her chest stick out.

  He cleared his throat and looked away to find his shirt. “No thanks to the two of you, I am up and as well as can be.”

  “The last man we were told to punish was left in his chambers without a head. No heads at all, to be exact.”

  “Excuse me?” He turned on her, angry. “Are you saying I got off easy?”

  “Compared to that?” She laughed. “I like you, so I gave you what you needed.”

  “But not really.”

  She tsked at him. “You weren’t complaining at the time. As far as I’m concerned, if you believe it happened, it did.”

  “But I know it didn’t.”

  “We both experienced it,” she countered. “What’s the difference if my friend didn’t know it was happening?”

  He pursed his lips, considering this, then said, “I’d like you to ride at my side into battle.”

  “Why?”

  “So that, if I’m dying on the battlefield, you can make that happen again. Go out on a good note, you know?”

  She laughed. “I could make it happen twenty-four hours a day if my magic didn’t drain me. But right now, your army awaits.”

  He licked his lips, remembering the image of her on top of him, wondering if that was how she really looked or if it was part of the illusion.

  “Oh, that was all me,” she reassured him, reading his mind.

  “I don’t even know your name,” he replied and approached to take her hand. An image of his wife flashed before him, but he pushed it aside. All of this was for her, he told himself again, even as he pulled this sorcerer’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

  An amused look came over her face, and as they stared into each other’s eyes he felt imaginary hands toying with his pants, caressing his bare hip and moving downward.

  Suddenly she pulled back with a giggle, spun on her heel, and said, “This way, Master Irdin.” When they reached the door, she paused and said, “Oh, and you can call me Candice, or Mistress. Whichever suits your mood.”

  He laughed at that, liking this woman more and more each second, then followed her out to meet his army.

  Having trained here under the acolytes, he had been surrounded by the best of the best, and had now proven himself to be their superior. No one could stand against him; no one except Her, that is. Not that he ever saw the goddess herself perform magic, though he knew how powerful She was. He could sense it.

  With all the power he held, he still tolerated others. Take, for example, the lines of men and women standing before him in the courtyard as he exited. He looked down upon their eager faces, and could instantly tell that not one of them could stand against him. Yet he was willing to ride into battle with them, to cast spells at their sides.

  “We have gathered to remind these lands that unity is the way of life,” he began, lifting his hands so that he stood before them like a god, ready to be praised. “The world has become segregated following the Age of Madness, but we mean to usher in a new age. An Age of Beauty, an Age of Loyalty, an Age of Her.”

  Cheers rose from the crowd.

  “There will be those who stand against us,” he said, gesturing to the west and south, and then to the east. “People who do not share our vision, our goal of unity. We must answer their betrayal, their lack of understanding of how it must be for us to move forward as a civilization, with firmness. We must squash the resistance like the bugs they are, show the world that our way is the only way. No one can stand in the path of light!”

  A roar rose from the crowd and he basked in it momentarily, until it suddenly transformed into a gasp. For a moment he was confused, but then noticed them all bowing as a golden light fell over them.

  By instinct he bowed now too, spinning as he did so, and waited.

  “It is time,” a firm feminine voice said. “Rise, stand with Me to bring the world to the way of light. It is time.”

  The emotions flooding through his chest at that moment made the pain and ecstasy of what had occurred back in his room feel like it had never been. He straightened, unable to keep the cheer from pouring out, the smile from spreading across his face, or the tears from falling.

  And there She was in all Her glory, glowing so brightly that he couldn’t see Her. But he knew She was there, ready to lead them to a new world, a better world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Donnon woke with a headache and aching guilt. He still couldn’t believe he had let himself get so carried away that Kia saw him like that. Getting drunk with the clan had been politics, he had told himself. But if he was being honest, as he knew he needed to be now, it wasn’t as much about that as him going back to his old ways.

  From now on, there would be no more of the old ways. Only Donnon, Kia, and, he hoped, Rhona. The three of them could figure this out; he was sure of it. They could get through anything.

  When he looked outside, he saw that the sky was the dark blue of pre-dawn and wondered why he had awakened so early. His head spun and he knew he needed more rest, but something must have woken him.

  Then he heard it. Shouting.

  He stood, went to the door, and opened it to see men and women lining up in the center of the village where the fire had been last night, swords and spears in hand, preparing for battle.

  “What is it?” he demanded
of a passing villager.

  “A rider just arrived,” the man reported, eyes wild with fright and excitement, mixed. “They’re here, down south, attacking Laird Summers. He’s sent in all directions for help, and the clans are answering the call. If not for you and yours, we wouldn’t have even considered this.” The man glanced away, watching a group run by. “Let’s hope you’re right,” he added, before running off to join the group.

  Donnon spun and saw his daughter stirring. She sat up and looked at him, and before he could say a word, she told him, “I’m going with you.”

  He was about to protest, but she was already standing. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. You know my magic’s as strong as any of the fire mages’ out there. I’m just learning to use it, and that means it’s only going to get stronger. I might be the difference between failure and success, or I might not matter in the slightest, but I’m not staying here, wondering.”

  For a little girl, she could sure be mature, he thought, and he nodded. “Grab your things, then.”

  Larick and Volney were at the door a moment later, ready to go.

  Donnon frowned, confused. “You weren’t going to be involved, I thought?”

  “With what’s coming, I don’t see how we could refuse,” Larick replied.

  “We have a duty, just as you do,” Volney added, both of them standing tall.

  Donnon nodded, grabbed his sword, and looked around to see if his daughter was ready. He found her giving Lannis a hug, and when she turned back to him, he saw the same look he had seen so many times on her mother’s face. Those sorcerers had no idea what was coming their way.

  ***

  The journey back across the sea to Roneland was soon over. They had sailed northeast, straight for the castle of the Order of Rodrick, as the sun took to the sky. As the castle was close to the coast, they didn’t have far to walk after docking and were soon approaching the bend Alastar knew all too well from his time running patrols for the castle.