by Justin Sloan
“Ah, hubris. And don’t forget our little chat about everything being a trap.”
Larick nodded, then said, “Are you coming?”
With a hearty laugh, the laird put a hand on his sword hilt and picked out two soldiers to follow him. The four of them made their way down to the huts.
Their feet sloshed in the damp grass and mud, making Larick wish he had found an excuse to get new boots along the way. With all the walking he had already done to reach this point they had their holes, to be sure, and his feet already sensed the dampness seeping in.
After this was over, he would be sure to see to mending the holes or getting new boots before setting off again. For now, he had to ignore it.
A short man with curly brown hair and a long beard had exited a hut and was walking toward them, no visible weapons on him other than a walking stick in his left hand.
When they were within three paces of each other, he stopped and held up a hand. “What brings you to my village, southerners?”
“Is it so obvious?” Laird Summers asked with a frown.
“To us, everyone is a southerner,” the man replied. “Well, aside from the Storm Raiders, but we’ve seen to their kind. Won’t be bothering us again.” He gave a nod to the graveyard and then spat. “I hope you didn’t come here to join them.”
“That won’t be happening,” Laird Summers replied. “We’ve come north for a simple reason, one I imagine you must be familiar with. We’re hunting any followers of the Lady Mowain, also known as She, or to some as the goddess.”
The man raised his chin, eyeing them carefully. “Is that so?”
“It is.” The laird made no secret of gripping his sword hilt. “Now, which side of this conflict would you be falling on?”
“We take no part in your conflicts, southerner,” the man replied, then turned on his heel and took a step back toward his village.
“Where’s the mystic?” Larick demanded.
The man froze, then turned slowly back to him. “I don’t know what ‘mystic’ means.”
“A man or woman who can do mind magic, essentially. I’m not even sure calling these people mystics is the right move here, since they clearly don’t come from my people. But I know there’s such a person hiding here, so denying it will only make matters worse for you.”
“First, nobody threatens Norstam, so watch yourself.” The man pointed at him with his walking stick. “Second…” and now his face contorted and his voice lowered, “I told you not to come here.”
He blinked and then staggered backward, clutching the walking stick for balance. For a moment he looked at Larick with desperation on his face, but a glance at the men on the rocks behind him gave the man strength. Again he spat on the ground, then turned to walk off.
Larick’s eyes went white and he reached out. We didn’t come for you or to start trouble, he said with his mind, telling anyone who would listen. The false goddess must be stopped. That’s all we want.
Men and women opened their doors and came out, some with bows and arrows, others with swords, and a couple in long gray robes. Some sort of magic users, no doubt.
But Norstam stood there, shoulders hunched as if he were about to vomit. Instead he looked at Larick with crazed eyes and said in his deep voice, “Come on, then. Follow this man so that we may talk.”
“The mystic is controlling him?” Laird Summers asked in a whisper.
Larick nodded, then started following Norstam with a wave to the laird and his two soldiers to stay close.
When they had passed the stone wall the armed townspeople formed a small circle around them, many watching Larick—likely because his eyes had gone white. He was ready, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
Laird Summers held up a hand and made a grunting noise, but already Larick was there, sensing the attempted mental attack and blocking it.
You can’t stand against me. Larick threw the message out, continuing to walk as if nothing had happened.
Why are you here? the voice in his head returned. You don’t belong here. None of us do. We should all be at the bottom of the ocean. We should all be in the fires. We should all—
SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Larick paused as the man opened the door to the old church, waiting. We will talk face to face, then we’ll be on our way.
A snarl came from within the church. They entered with caution, glancing back to see Norstam stumble away whimpering.
“This place is in need of our help,” Laird Summers stated, pushing past Larick and pulling his sword. “Whoever’s in here, show yourself!”
Candlelight flickered and then flames roared and reflected on the walls as a monstrous beast charged them. Its horns were long and curved like a bull’s, and its eyes glowing like the pits of hell. It opened its reptilian mouth to reveal sword-like teeth.
Laird Summers took a step back, sword clattering to the ground, but not Larick.
He’d seen much of this in his day and instead stepped into it, pushing against the image with his mind.
In a flash it was gone, the room once again only lit by candlelight.
“Simply an illusion,” Larick explained as he picked up the laird’s sword and handed it to him. “Nothing more.”
A man sat in the front pew of the church. Many of the pews were no more, but this one had been made of stone. Half of it had crumbled away, but the other half was sturdy enough to hold the man.
When he stood and faced them, Larick nearly stumbled back in surprise. He had seen that face on a mystic before. One now dead.
“No, I’m his brother,” the man stated. “And not truly a mystic, if you want to be precise.”
Larick proceeded cautiously, eyeing the man. “What, then? How did you get your powers?”
“Many of us were the same,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “Not the same magic, but learning, training… Three of us managed this, and the others developed skill with lightning, ice, and more. At least one, fire.”
“Someone taught you?”
The man nodded. “A traveler.”
“And now… Now you all serve this false goddess?” Laird Summers interjected. “Why?”
“No, no.” The man placed a hand on the stone of the pew. “Not I, not anymore. I escaped. When my brother was killed, I saw the light. I saw the error in Her ways, and I fled.”
“You weren’t hiding from us,” Larick said, realization dawning. “You were hiding from Her.”
“Was. Am. Always will be.” He sighed, eyeing them cautiously. “If you really mean to kill Her, I wish you luck. Doing so may just save me.”
“Join us, then,” the laird offered.
“Never. Never will I return to Her, or be anywhere She can reach me. No. No!” He twitched, then swallowed. “We didn’t know any better. We were promised power, taught to believe in an old god—one before Her, even. But She said She was descended from the old god. A symbol, a skull with fangs, bat-like wings behind it, found at an ancient site on the island. This was where we worshipped; our sacred land. But it was all lies, all…corrupted, rotten. Evil.”
Larick had taken a step forward to ask more questions when a commotion sounded outside. First there was a yell, then more shouts. The door burst open and someone shouted about devils. The false mystic’s eyes went white and then he nodded.
“You’ve brought the hill clans upon us. The white devils.” His eyes cleared and he hissed at them, pulling back into the shadows to curl up and hide. “You’ve done this. You! If they find me, they’ll tell Her. They will.”
“Are they with the goddess?” Laird Summers demanded.
“They will, they will…” the false mystic repeated.
“He’s lost his mind,” the laird said in disgust.
“Or is lost in it,” Larick replied. “Mysticism is a tough art. If you don’t master it, the magic can create more problems than good.”
With that, they turned to run from the church and join the fight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
This wasn’
t optimal, having to row north in an ocean where the waves worked against them. They had left behind a village full of people who might really mean them as much harm as not. While they had been fairly convincing in their willingness to help, it was just as likely they were sending the group into an ambush.
Alastar’s hands were getting raw from the oars, though he had wrapped his right to facilitate a better grip on his sword. Donnon was doing his part, but kept grumbling about how much he wished Andreas could’ve been there with them to help.
The sun sparkled off the water around them and a haze fell over the horizon in the direction they were going, so that even if there was a large ship or other trouble out there they wouldn’t easily see it coming. Above them clouds formed wisps, some of them closer and moving like puffs that floated across the sky.
“When you need a break, let me know,” Estair offered.
Alastar just grunted and kept rowing. It wasn’t that she was a woman. It was that he was a paladin. He wasn’t about to move aside and let someone else do the work while he still could.
The two children sat at the bow, dipping their hands over to play in the water. For a moment they almost seemed to be their real ages, just enjoying life as it passed by.
“If we have a repeat of Sair Talem,” Rhona said, “I’m leaving.”
“What would that look like?” Donnon asked.
“Mostly killing remnant. Going into creepy tombs. Stuff like that.”
“Aye, none of that for me, if possible,” he replied. “I can kill remnant all day, but I prefer to leave the dead to their peace.”
“Dad’s always been scared of ghosts,” Kia said, turning to them with a smirk. She squinted as the light reflected into her eyes, then shifted to avoid it. “Tell ‘em, Dad.”
He scoffed. “Not scared. More like…respectful of their space.”
“Tell me you don’t actually believe in ghosts!” Rhona said.
“Sure, as soon as you tell me you don’t believe in magic.”
“It’s different.”
He shook his head, turning his head to look at the horizon. “What can I say? Non-believers are non-believers. Nothing I can do but show you sometime.”
She laughed. “I’d like that, dear. I really would.”
“Has your dad actually ever seen a ghost?” Lannis asked, trying to whisper but forced to say it loudly to be heard over the wind.
Kia looked at her dad, who continued rowing, and then she nodded. “I used to think I saw them in the village all the time. Elders said they were just the wind spirits of rival clans, or gave me other explanations. It’s hard to say what’s what when you have so many easy explanations for things, but we’re each entitled to our beliefs.”
Alastar noticed the kids giggling, but found himself agreeing with Donnon. Not that there were ghosts, necessarily, but that he should believe in them if he wanted to. Everything Alastar had accepted concerning the Order of Rodrick had so far been proven wrong, but that hadn’t made him cast off his title of ‘paladin,’ and he wasn’t about to turn against all of their teachings. He still believed in a higher power, he mentally admitted, even if it wasn’t the saint he had been taught to believe in. In a world with such evil as there was, he wanted to believe in a higher power, and therefore did. Nobody could tell him otherwise and get him to agree, because he had made his mind up.
It wasn’t that he just believed, it was that he chose to believe.
From that perspective, he respected his sister’s lover.
The conversation moved on to what they would all like to do after this was over, and then Estair wondering how the old paladin protectorate villages were holding up with all that was happening. They figured that groups of paladins, the ones who had run off, were either hiding out in them, or the villages would have learned what happened and started breaking off on their own.
Either way, they would have to send people out when this was over to ensure they were all truly on one side, especially if the king was going to finally unite the Lost Isles. They didn’t doubt that he would, considering his new role in the war and their relationship to him.
A movement in the water caught Alastar’s attention. He could’ve sworn he saw something moving down there—a dark shape with a horn on its nose, similar to Rose’s fake unicorn. But no…as much as he wanted to believe in all sorts of creatures and higher powers and all that, a swimming unicorn just didn’t make sense to him. He shook his head, choosing to ignore it, but kept a lookout in case he saw any more signs of something swimming down there.
Nothing appeared, so he dismissed it from his mind.
“There!” Rhona shouted, pointing. “I see something in the haze.”
Alastar craned his neck to see, and Donnon paused his rowing to turn and look too. Sure enough, off to the northwest was a dark form, too wide to be a ship. It had to be an island, or maybe a series of islands.
“Might be time to summon that fairy again,” Estair noted.
Alastar nodded, focusing on his power and imagining his aunt, the Lady Mowain. In a flash the fairy was there, dancing across the water at the side of their boat for a moment. In a flash she was up, shooting across the sea toward the islands.
“At least we know we’re on the right track,” Rhona said.
Alastar felt his gut clenching from nerves or anticipation, and he started rowing faster. He pulled on his light magic and felt a healing sensation tingle along his arms as the glow covered Donnon. The two picked up the pace. They were eager to get this over with.
As they drew closer they saw that there were indeed several islands. The nearer ones were smaller, but as they approached they saw tall cliffs, lush green hills, and then an island with a bit of a beach on it. This was the one the fairy stopped at, moving to a point between tall rocks and waiting for them. Larger ships might have had a hard time navigating in there, but this little rowboat wouldn’t be a problem.
They rowed to shore and pulled the boat onto the sand, then hid it behind some rocks. When it was secure Alastar stood up and looked at the hills ahead of them, past the lush trees forming a line along the shore.
“Somewhere in there our enemy awaits,” he stated.
“Waits to get her arse handed to her, more like,” Donnon said with a chuckle. “Hell, maybe we should just stand here and shout her name until she comes out. Do it old-school challenge style.”
“I don’t think so,” Alastar replied. “Even if we’re going to play to her hubris, I think there’s a thin line between that and being hasty. Our own overconfidence can’t be ignored either.”
“Catching her off-guard is still on my list of preferred options,” Estair interjected. “If possible.”
Alastar waved his hand and the fairy flew over to him and hovered in front of his face for a moment, then made a small bow before floating along slowly so they could follow.
“Then let’s get to the hunt,” he said as he followed the fairy, sword hilt gripped firmly.
For over an hour they walked, passing tall heather and cliffs and then moving inland. At one point they stopped at a hill that looked out over a cliff below and a lagoon where they could see a ship moving toward the island.
He glanced back at Rhona and Kia and decided to slow his pace to let them catch up.
“You’re never scared?” he asked the girl. “With all this going on, at your age? I’d be terrified.”
“Remember the time you pissed your pants when that bull ran at you?” Rhona laughed. “I think you were about her age then, actually.”
He chuckled, not embarrassed about that in the least. Most people, he figured, would do the same in that situation.
Kia smiled, then replied, “This isn’t scary. Not really. The loss of my mom? My whole village, for that matter? Now that was scary.”
“But we don’t talk about such things, do we?” Donnon had been in conversation with Estair, and had now caught up.
“My uncle says it’s good to let it out,” Lannis argued. “Says it clea
nses the soul.”
“And your uncle’s an expert, how?”
“He lost his brother, for one. My dad.” Lannis frowned, shaking his head. “At least he doesn’t have the slightest clue that I’m out here fighting. Whereas you…you have let your daughter face some of the most powerful sorcerers around.”
Donnon flushed, grinding his teeth.
“Wait a minute,” Alastar interrupted. “Your uncle doesn’t know you’re here?”
Lannis shook his head. “Definitely not. You think he’d have let me come out here if he knew? He’d probably have sent me to one of the protectorates for safekeeping, or left me with the groups that stayed back to protect the manor.”
“Well, shite.” Alastar glanced at the other adults. “I’m going to assume none of us knew this, right? Right. So we’re all not only kidnappers, but ignorant ones at that. And yet we somehow hope to outsmart this powerful goddess lady—who happens to be my aunt—because we know we can’t match her power. Do I have this all correct?”
“Brother, stop talking.” Rhona shook her head. “You’re really not giving us a confidence boost here.”
He scratched the stubble on his chin. “It’s just that if we’re going to march off to our doom, I’d like to know.”
Now it was Estair’s turn. She walked up, grabbed him by his long blond hair, and pulled him in for a deep kiss.
He blinked, confused. “What was that for?”
“In part to get you to shut up. So, shut up! But also, in case we are marching off to our doom, I wanted to make sure I got a few more of those in first.”
She kept walking and then Alastar was walking too, unable to think of anything other than the sway of her hips and his craving to feel her tongue against his again.
“Damn, it really worked!” Rhona noted with a laugh. “Donnon, come here. I want to shut you up too.”
“I wasn’t talking, but—”
Alastar heard a muffled sound and turned to see his sister pressed against the man.
“Um, what I said earlier about scary?” Kia rolled her eyes and walked past Alastar, Lannis following closely. “Let’s add that to the list.”
