Michael walked over to the three injured brigands. Two were dressed in the armor of Hearthshire guards, and the third was a crown soldier who had probably deserted the roadblock he was assigned to guard. The fourth man was the least injured. Michael decided he could wait. He worked on the two with the deepest wounds. It took half an hour, but both would live. He checked the third and found he had been well healed by Roger. The fourth man wore a mismatched set of leather armor, which did not betray his origin.
Michael cast the healer spells surgery sleep and amnesia release on the first three. The spells would cause them to sleep for at least eight hours and to forget everything that happened to them for the past ten to twelve hours. The fourth man Michael propped up against a wagon wheel and asked him to tell the story of how he came to this clearing for the attack on the wagon caravan.
“I was a good man once; I never imagined that I would end up hung as a brigand.”
He started to weep, and Michael waited.
“I’m Arthur the wheelwright, and I’m from Hearthshire Town too. I recognize that you are actually Michael the apprentice of William the master healer. You were well known in town. I saw you heal these injured men, and I’m certain of who you actually are.”
Michael said, “You’re right. I escaped from the pogrom because I was out in the forest when the knight protectors came for us.”
Arthur explained, “I watched as all the healers of the province were executed. Even your teacher William was flayed and burned although already dead at the time. I think the church and the king did great evil in those executions, and that terrible sin by both the church and crown, brought the plague upon us. I had the disease and survived but my wife and three children all died. The three knight protectors who were with us were also from Hearthshire Town, and they also had the white pneumonia and survived. It killed most of the priests and knight protectors who sheltered in the Great Temple, and every family like mine who got the contaminated grain came down with it.”
“If they had the pneumonia and survived, why did these knight protectors leave the Temple and city? Why become brigands and outlaws? They couldn’t contract the disease a second time.”
“They always treated the rest of us with contempt. I would never have dared to ask them why they fled, but I think they had lost all faith in divine Perry. All three of them were evil men who killed, often slowly, anyone who questioned their authority. They organized all of the rootless desperate men who wandered into this area. They claimed that we would eventually take over the town of Swamp Ford or Marigold Meadows and rule it like barons.”
“How many did you kill personally, Arthur?”
“I could claim none, but you would not believe that. I killed two tonight; both were men without armor. I killed several other people that we waylaid in the past three weeks when they resisted.”
“Arthur, you will forget the past day and sleep for about eight hours.” Michael cast the spells and Arthur relaxed into sleep.
Chapter 7
Jacob, Roger, and Michael moved away from the injured men to talk.
Roger said to Michael, “You must cast amnesia release on all the survivors. They know we’re healers.”
“Guild guidelines don’t allow it to be used in that way, and I’ve already stretched the limits when I cast it on the brigands, but we need to trust our own men. They should be grateful that we healed them and drove off the brigands.”
Jacob said, “You can’t count on even good men to keep silent forever. One night in a pub with too much brandy would be all it would take to get us all condemned. Guild rules or no rules, we need them to forget our magic armor, your elf-sword, and the healing we’ve done. Michael, your scruples might be deadly in the future. Neither of us has the master skill of that spell. It has to be you Michael who casts amnesia.”
Michael walked over to the surviving drivers and guards. “My friends, we’ve come through battle together. We are comrades in arms, but I have a question for you. By now you know that Jacob, Roger, and I are healers. That knowledge could get us condemned to the fires of the executioners. I would like to take that knowledge from you with a light cast of a spell that master healers know. If I do it perfectly, you will forget everything since our dinner last night. You won’t remember the battle with the brigands and knight protectors. Guild rules require that I have your permission to cast this spell on you. Will you allow it?”
Several survivors said yes immediately, and the others followed their lead. Michael cast sleep spells on each of them and then made a very light cast of the amnesia spell so that they would only forget a few hours and not weeks. Michael himself didn’t know for certain how far back the memories would be lost. He had never tried the spell in such a weak form.
They busied themselves with clearing up the evidence of what Michael’s sword could do. Michael used a dwarfish spell to remove a four-square paces section of dirt at the edge of the clearing. After searching the bodies, they dropped the two knight protectors that Michael had slain into the pit, and Michael moved the block of soil and sod back to cover the evidence.
They had left the knight protector that Peter Oxbow had killed using an ordinary sword because they needed to explain how so many of the other bodies received serious burns. They lined up the drivers’ and guards’ bodies, and took out the canvas from one of the wagons. The three healers sat together and prepared shrouds for each of the dead from their caravan while Gregory stood as lookout. They didn’t put the bodies into the shrouds yet because they wanted the reinforcements coming from Swamp Ford to see the carnage the brigands had created. Because it was the closest town, it would be the authorities in Swamp Ford who had the legal right to decide the brigands’ fates, but it was almost always hanging in cases like these.
They searched all the brigands’ bodies and took their valuables to send to the victims of their attack. Michael had about two hundred gold crowns on his packhorse, and he added it to the family pile. There were twenty-six brigands’ bodies and one knight protector. Michael, Jacob, and Roger collected wood for a funeral pyre for the dead attackers. They planned to use one of the wagons, and the unhurt wagon driver to send the dead from the caravan back to Southport Province for burial in their family plots or cremation on a sanctified funeral pyre at their local shrines. By early afternoon, the survivors of the assault began to wake up. Those of the convoy of wagons only had memories of going to bed the previous night. The four surviving attackers had no memories of the past day. As the caravan drivers and guards awoke, Roger told them that the knight protector who had led assault had done something to them to make them sleep as the brigands attacked. The survivors began to help with gathering wood and making shrouds.
Two of the survivors cooked a meal of salt cod stew with carrots and turnips. They ate together in silence; it was an extreme contrast from the jovial evening they had enjoyed together the night before. All of the soldiers and most of the wagon drivers had known each other for years, and Michael had to insist that they wait for the authorities from Swamp Ford before taking any action against the four surviving brigands.
Around nightfall they heard singing of over twenty men from Swamp Ford as they walked along the nearby road, accompanied by Jim and John Neville and Gregory Oxbow on horseback. The men sung the famous Swamp Man’s Ballad known in every pub in Glastamear.
You may ask me why I live there, land of vipers and the bite-fly, you may ask me why I love this wetland, with its odor of the swamp gas, with its bog and quicksand danger. I can tell you, I can tell you, it’s the fog emerged at sunrise, it’s the hyacinth in still water, it’s the heron while it’s fishing in the evening twilight quiet. I can tell you, I can tell you, but you’ll never see the beauty, you’ll never see the beauty if you’re not a swamp man born. If you’re not born to this land of damp and splendor, you will never see its beauty. Let’s have a toast to Swamp Ford and the hardy souls who live there, then let’s have a second toast to bless those crazy fools who live there.
As the group grew near, they grew quiet. There was more death in one place than they had ever seen. High Priest Carson was walking with the men dressed in the unpretentious clothing of a common laborer. He and the mounted men came forward.
High Priest Carson made Perry’s sign over the dead and looked at the four tied-up prisoners. He said, “Michael, this is a terrible scene. To see a knight protector leading this criminal band nearly breaks my heart. How far has the church fallen? It is up to John who is now our mayor to judge the brigands who survived this attack. It’s my job to pray for the dead of both the attackers and the victims. John, please question these men.”
John Neville came forward to where the four prisoners were standing. “Are you guilty of an attack on innocent travelers?”
All four men looked down.
“Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”
They continued to look down.
“You once may have been honest men, but now I find you guilty of the capital crime of brigandage and sentence you to the quicker of the deaths by hanging. Men, let’s get this over with. Help put the bodies from the caravan in shrouds and into this wagon and pile the brigands on the funeral pyre. My Lord, you may say the prayers for the dead before we light the fire. Giff, pick ten men and get to the hanging. I don’t want to spend the night in this polluted spot so make it quick with broken necks. You can use the horses.”
It was dark when the caravan of fourteen wagons headed toward Swamp Ford and a single wagon took the dead back towards Southport Province. No one wanted to spend the night in that bloody battleground where the funeral pyres still smoldered and the stink of death saturated the humid air.
Riding next to Michael, John Neville remarked, “There is more to this story than you’ve said so far. I saw one spot that was clearly from a decapitation from the blood spray, and another that was an instant massive loss like I’ve never seen before. There were no bodies injured in those ways.”
“There were actually three knight protectors leading this group of highwaymen. One I decapitated right through his helmet and the other I cut in two at the waist through his steel plate armor. My elf-sword can do impossible things. Since we couldn’t explain those wounds, we buried them before you arrived.”
John nodded. “Three knight protectors gone rogue. That is a scary concept; with their armor and their fire magic, they could rule this land of ours. How can ordinary knights and soldiers even battle against a fireball? No archer can easily penetrate their steel plate armor, and a handful of knight protectors could rule any town in Glastamear if they ignore their vows to the church leadership. The epidemic has caused dangers other than the disease itself.”
“I’ve examined their manna enough to know that every high priest is an extremely powerful fire mage, and that the Most Holy Son of Perry Ascendant is the most powerful of all. It is their superior magic that has ushered them into their leadership roles. In the case of High Priest Carson and Simon, they are good men, but still they are the most powerful fire mages in their province. That power is what keeps the priests and knight protectors to their vows. The Holy Son’s manna is many times as strong as Carson or Simon. He must have been chosen because, with their detect manna spells, all fire mages can see how powerful he is. He could destroy an army of ordinary men and may need to if the three kingdoms invade in the spring.”
John said, “If there’s war, will it be a battle of fire mages? If the Holy Son is really that powerful, why would they invade?”
Michael thought it over and remembered history books he’d read while studying with William. “The three kingdoms will certainly bring all their own fire mages. They have many descendants of Perry the Bagger chieftain, perhaps not as many as Glastamear but scores of them. The Holy Son has and his predecessors have always stopped previous invasions by casting walls of flames and firestorm spells, which only they have sufficient manna to cast. What is certain is that no ordinary men can survive in that hell of fire magic warfare. The citizens of the city of Min Hollow and all the ordinary soldiers will be in gravest danger even if the Holy Son carries the day and repels the invaders.”
John said, “I also worry about the ninety soldiers from Southport who are going to Broken Arrow. There must be a dozen priests and knight protectors at the Temple of Perry’s Final Victory. Those Southport men would have no chance against them. If the church wants to control all of the supplies, they can just take it all for themselves.”
“My friend, I also thought of that risk. The naiads taught me a spell that will stop all fire magic within a substantial area. Before the caravan left Southport, I enchanted the golden Perry’s hand above the temple entrance in Broken Arrow. There will be no fire spells within the city for the foreseeable future. In fact, the priests will already have discovered that they can’t even perform the ritual of Bringing Forth Perry’s Fire at their weekly services.”
“Michael Elf-Blood, you really are the one of Gripton’s promise. Glastamear will be a different place with you in it. That fire suppression spell itself may change everything.”
“I hope it’s a change for the better,” Michael replied, but he knew that there were worse conditions than the rule by Perry’s church and their anointed king. He feared anarchy even more.
Chapter 8
Because of the crowding and limited dry land at Swamp Ford, John Neville decided it would not be practical to take all of the wagons into town. After discussing their options, only one wagon at a time would be taken into town to unload. The apothecary wagon would be parked in the Temple courtyard to provide free healing to anyone with the white pneumonia or other medical needs.
The nine wagons going to Oxbow Narrows and Azure Falls stayed on the main road. They headed north rather than trying to use the narrow causeway to Swamp Ford. Michael, Jim, and the Oxbow brothers said goodbye to John Neville and High Priest Carson and continued with the wagons. By noon, they were descending the steep north slope of the Blacksmith Hills on the switchbacks of the stone-paved road with the small village of Oxbow Narrows across a long thin lake in the distance. The small town was made visible by the gray smoke from cooking fires mixed with the pitch-black smoke of its iron smelter, the main industry of the small village.
Oxbow Narrows was too small to even have a Perry Shrine, so they expected to find no priests or knight protectors in the area. The four Oxbow brothers were known to and related to almost everyone in town, and they planned to make no attempt to hide their identities from their former neighbors and relatives. They were confident that their friends and family would keep their secret.
It took more than an hour to descend the switchbacks and cross the causeway at a narrow section of Oxbow Lake. All the townspeople turned out surprised to see nine wagons approaching. Almost all wagon traffic had been halted since the King’s roadblocks were established sixty days earlier. While it was easy for an individual to travel through the forest or fields to avoid roadblocks, for wagons it was impossible.
The Oxbow brothers noticed that refugees from the city to the north and west had swollen the town’s population. There were at least twice as many people as when they had been taken prisoner in the summer and sent to Broken Arrow for execution. There were dozens of new tents and lean-tos along the road into town with a bedraggled set of refugees forming up to follow the wagons through the gates and into the town square.
The most surprising comment came from Michael. “I detect three manna signs from fire mages in the village. There are either priests or knight protectors in town.”
Roger said, “We’ll all leave our helmets on, but many of our friends will know us anyway.”
As the wagon caravan moved slowly toward the town square, Michael noticed that the manna signs were coming from three men dressed as merchants rather than traditional priests’ robes. He wondered if the reputation of the priesthood had fallen so low that these refugees were afraid to reveal that they were priests of Perry Ascendant.
As the wagons entere
d the town square, a huge man, the largest that Michael had ever met stood on a platform in front of the market. He wore the chain of office of a mayor. Michael removed his helmet and rode forward. “Well met honorable mayor. I am Michael Son-of-William. By the generosity of the people of Southport Province and as a gift of Governor Talton and High Priest Simon, we have brought five wagons of food to help feed you and the refugees who have sheltered here from the chaos of the cities. We hope this gift will get you through this bitter winter of death as the white pneumonia ravages our homeland. Four of the wagons we will take to Azure Falls tomorrow.”
The mayor eyed the four Oxbow brothers. Michael had the impression that he suspected who they were, but he merely replied. “Greetings good sir; I am Henry Ironmaster. It is extremely grateful we all are. We had nearly despaired of keeping everyone alive until the spring lambing season. We make our living by trading iron ingots for food and supplies, and with the King’s roadblocks, we have no market for our only product. May Father God bless you and Governor Talton and High Priest Simon for these auspicious gifts. Michael Son-of-William, you have saved many lives. Please come with me into the inn to discuss distribution, and bring your five armored friends.”
As soon as they all entered the empty common room of the Forge of Iron Inn, the Oxbow brothers removed their helmets, and the mayor embraced each of them in turn. Gregory said, “Michael, this is our uncle Henry.”
“When those bastards killed your parents and took you in chains to Broken Arrow, I followed and remained in Broken Arrow for two months trying to discover your fate. I was despondent and weeping to see you hanging from the flaying racks before the temple on that terrible day. I had my sword hidden under my cloak, and I was determined to kill at least one of those temple monsters before you died. When the transparent wall was created, you all disappeared like in some story of the Legends Times. It was the happiest event of my life, but even in my joy, the magic of it scared me witless. How in the name of the Father God did you manage that?”
The Mages' Winter of Death: The Healers of Glastamear: Volume Two Page 6
