Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection

by Andy Peloquin

  “We need to get closer. Dive near that secondary tower on the west.”

  Opaleye obliged and plunged to the cusp of the blackened window, which grew in size as he approached. The yawning mouth of a pane-less window loomed out of the dark. Opaleye huffed and a trickle of flame lit the opening. It was large enough to fit two flying dragons or one perched at the edge of the wall. A swarm of bats tumbled out of the opening, startled by the glare of light and flame. They clicked with annoyance as they flew, the bright light disturbing their nocturnal prowling. Opaleye landed at the edge of the opening and walked into the cavernous room, snapping at the stragglers as they passed.

  Madrid’s first thought was that it was a hatchery or a rookery for birds, but the dimensions were off. His eyes wandered over the interior of the cavern. “This isn’t a rookery. It’s a prison.” Cages lined the walls with rusting gates hanging from failing hinges. Madrid slid off the back of Opaleye and grabbed a wall torch, lighting it in the flame trickling from Opaleye’s mouth. Madrid swung the light around, examining his surroundings as he walked deeper into the room. “This is the perfect place to hide you, Opaleye. It hasn’t been used in years. You will have plenty of room.” Madrid kicked at a pile of bones on the floor, silhouetted by the firelight. “Looks like there are owls nesting in here too, along with the bats.”

  Opaleye moved past the cages at ground level and hopped up onto the top of the metal bars. They screeched and groaned under his weight but his focus was on the curve of rock beyond the cages, a ledge of sorts.

  This will do fine, he thought, pushing his way back into the cavity and turning around. I am hungry from the long flight. Where is this food you speak of? I must eat. Opaleye sniffed hopefully at the rock and scraped at the natural stone, licking it with a long tongue. He growled at the taste, his head swinging back to Madrid. He bared his fangs.

  Give me a few hours. I will find you food. Annoyed with the dragon, Madrid left the chamber by a hallway that opened into the mountain, disappearing into the dark.

  You had better bring a feast when you return.

  Madrid cursed aloud as he stomped down the corridor. “Annoying, pompous, demanding…,” he muttered in a growl. So preoccupied was he with thoughts of Opaleye and the implementation of his plan that he failed to see the pale shadow that hid behind a pillar of stone on a side passage.

  ***

  Ramos stared at the retreating Madrid’s back, a puzzled frown on his face. He remained still until the boyish figure was swallowed by the darkness, then he turned up the flame on his shuttered lantern to light his way. He crept forward with a soft tread and paused in the middle of the intersecting hallway. He glanced back at the abandoned dungeon then strode down the hall, following Madrid. He could return to the chamber at a later date, and, besides, he suspected what he would find there was an opal-eyed dragon of massive proportions. The boy ahead of him was the real puzzle. Ramos hurried his gait, careful to not drag his leg and give himself away to his quarry.

  The boy quickened his pace, moving along the hallways as though he was familiar with the layout of the keep. He moved swiftly along the hallways until he reached the wing that held the adept’s quarters, a wing that Ramos knew only too well. But he had never seen this boy before. It was strange that he would choose to enter this area. Ramos quickened his pace, trying to keep the boy in sight without appearing to be following him. He rounded a corner and saw the boy halfway down the long hallway. His stride had slowed as though he was searching for something.

  Ramos took two steps to follow when a firm hand fell on his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. Ramos’s heart jumped into his throat as his head swung to the face of his assailant.

  Wizard Telling stared down at him, a bemused smile on his face. “Adept Ramos, I wish to speak to you about the elementals. Would you join me in my quarters? Say, in an hour or so? Hmm?”

  “I would be delighted to join you, sir.”

  “Excellent. Bring those books you have been studying in the library. I hear you have been digging into the ancient scrolls. We can have a lesson at the same time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wizard Telling nodded to him, then swept down the corridor. Ramos peered around his retreating form, but the hall was empty. His quarry was gone.

  Ramos hurried after the wizard, running past him to the end of the corridor. He skidded to a halt then scanned the hall in both directions. His quarry was no where to be found. Picking a direction at random, he ran down the left hallway, past door after door, glancing in those that were open. He ran right past the last open doorway before it registered that the boy was in the room. He lurched to a halt and nearly fell as his leg hitched. He threw out a hand against the wall and arrested his face-first fall, gasping for the short breaths that would calm his heart. Once he was sure that his breathing could not be overheard, he crept back to the open doorway and peered around the edge of the door frame.

  “Well don’t just stand there. Come in!” barked the voice.

  Ramos straightened, back rigid. Fear chased shock across his face.

  How does he know I am here? Ramos peeked around the door frame, and his mouth opened wide in shock. An adept-imminent stood before him in royal blue robes trimmed with silver. On the left breast was the badge of rank that declared him second only to Wizard Tanis. He was a clairvoyant, one of the rare wizards who could intuit their surroundings, but it didn’t end there. Some clairvoyants could also read minds. This man is the dragon rider? The thought crashed against the inside of Ramos’s skull as he forced himself to step fully into the open doorway.

  “Take these down to the laundry. They need to be cleaned and pressed before I meet with the wizard’s council tomorrow. I want every stain removed and not a crease to be found in my robes.” The man shoved a canvas sack into Ramos’s arms and turned away to examine his appearance in a mirror. The stranger smoothed his hair with a finger wetted against his tongue. The piercing eyes glared at Ramos. “Well? Why are you standing there? Get a move on!” he commanded and Ramos slid out of the opening with a bow, his hands clutching the soiled clothing to his chest. He rolled around the corner and flattened his back against the wall, stilling his pounding heart. The knot in his throat eased slightly as he relaxed, listening hard. No sound issued from the room.

  Ramos longed to peek around the corner, but courage abandoned him and he limped away to deliver the sack to the laundress five floors below. He limped down the stairs, mulling over the situation. Had he seen the dragon rider in the room or not? Was exhaustion taking its toll on his vision, on his wits? He did not recognize the adept-imminent, but that was not surprising. He was not allowed to mingle with those of higher skill sets. They trained at the highest levels. An adept-imminent would be an apprentice of sorts, his education coming at the elbow of a master. To accuse such a one was to accuse the master himself. He could not ever broach his fears, not without solid proof. Not without evidence of wrongdoing.

  Ramos reached the laundress and shouldered the door open, depositing the bag on the floor and adding a tag with the room number of the adept to the twisted throat of the sack, or he tried to. There was something lodged in the thick of the twist so that the tag would not fit. He relaxed the twist and dug inside the bag to smooth the fold that was obstructing the closure. But it wasn’t fabric that met his searching hand. It closed around a small bag. He pulled it up and out of the sack. Brown animal skin with a cord of leather drawstring rested in his palm. He glanced quickly around the room and then slipped it into his pocket for later investigation. Wrapping the tag around the properly sized neck, he tied it off and left the laundry, anxious to discover the contents of the mysterious pouch in his pocket. Somehow, he did not believe the contents to be anything the adept wished to be viewed.

  Regardless of what the pouch held, it would not go well for him. The adept was not who he seemed to be. I know his secret, or at least a part of it. Anyone that can command a dragon is not from Gaia. Heck, dragons are not from Gaia. And
he can change his appearance! There was no chance his being here bode well for the keep. But who would believe him? Attracting the imposter’s attention is a bad idea, very bad. He shook the pouch trying to guess at what it contained.

  If the contents are innocent, he mused, the adept will know it was in my hands because I carried away his laundry. He will search his memory for a picture of my face. He might even think I stole it or pick-pocketed it…which I guess I did, but not intentionally!

  If the content is damning, he will be on high alert, searching to recover the pouch. He will be watching for me to stop me and question me…or even worse! Ramos chewed his lip as he limped away. He felt the press of imaginary eyes following him. He might be paranoid, but he knew he would not be able to sleep in his quarters that night nor any night to follow until he fully understood what was going on. He sensed they were all in danger, but he was the only one who knew of it. Something was going on, but he needed proof.

  Ducking into an alcove, he pulled the pouch from his pocket and pulled it open. Inside was a folded parchment. It was folded many times, and it took a moment to open it up. When Ramos did, he found that the paper contained a tablespoon full of a white powder. He was careful not to touch the substance. He gently folded the paper back up then tucked it back into the bag and into his pocket.

  Checking that the corridor was clear, he hurried down the steps to ground level and out into the gardens that supplied the kitchens with fresh produce. Situated behind a short wooden wall was an open refuse heap where the scraps of meals were tossed. It was located along the outer wall and was frequented by rats. He crouched behind the wooden wall and opened the package, sprinkling a tiny amount of the powder on a choice piece of garbage, sure to attract a rat or two.

  Mission accomplished, Ramos walked along the gardens and out into the main courtyard. The hayloft of the stable was a place he had called home on more than one occasion. Better safe than sorry until he had the proof he needed. He entered the stables just as the clock tower gonged the hour. He counted the strikes. Seven o’clock.

  Seven o’clock? I am late for Wizard Telling’s lesson!

  Ramos sped to the back of the barn and slid open the door to the hay storage. He climbed up to the loft, wincing at the effort required to swing onto the second story then shoved the incriminating packet into a hole in the wall, his favourite hiding space. Then, he climbed back down and ran back toward the library as fast as his lame leg would carry him.

  Chapter 5

  Mad Theories

  Morning dawned, unveiling a sky full of scuttling clouds, heavy with rain. They swept between the mountain peaks, rolling around the wet rock. Ramos had fetched his cloak on the way down from Wizard Telling’s chambers and was glad for it, as he pulled the hood up to shelter himself from the steady downpour. He nodded to the stable boy as he stepped out into the rain and crossed over to the main keep, dodging puddles as he ran with his hitching gait. How he hated his lame leg. It was a full two inches shorter than his left. As much as he tried to compensate for the difference no amount of packing in his boots could completely compensate for the difference.

  The extra material he shoved into the bottom of his boot required him to wear a size too large, and mud was a major enemy. It had claimed his boot more times than he could remember, leaving him hopping around on one leg trying to pull it out of the thick mud.

  “Hey, Ramos! You planning on being a stork again?” The taunt was flung at him by another adept, who ran with two able legs, shoving Ramos into a puddle as he intersected Ramos’s path. Ramos stumbled and his foot ended up in the middle of the puddle he had been trying to avoid. The adept’s laughter was snatched away by the wind but not before he heard it. Ramos tugged on the boot. His foot slipped and rose half way up it. He shoved it back down, hard then with both hands gripped the side of his boot and tried to tug it out of the mud while balancing on his left foot, a feat that was quite impossible. Furious to find himself in this all-to-familiar predicament, he wrenched at the offending footwear, growing angrier by the minute. A cold wet trickle ran down his face. The rain was intensifying.

  Ramos straightened, looking around for something to use to pry the boot out of the mud and came face to face with a young woman, who he recognized from the kitchens.

  “Cara,” she said, reminding him of her name. “Would you like some help?” She bent down and tugged at the boot, prying it out of the mud with a slow squelch, raising his foot at the same time. Then, she placed it on a solid cobblestone. The boot weighed three times its companion and was twice the size with mud. “Here, I will wash it off for you.” She grabbed a stick and dragged off the worst of the mud then scooped up water from a puddle and rinsed the larger portion away. “Stomp your foot now to knock off the rest,” she said as she straightened and stepped back.

  “Thank you, Cara,” said Ramos, in a whisper. He blushed. “You are kind.”

  Cara smiled. “And you are cute, Ramos.” A blush rose from Ramos’s collar at her words. “Come, let’s get out of the rain.” Laughing, she took his hand and led him to the servant’s door to the kitchens, ushering him inside the steaming interior. Breakfast preparations were underway. Cooks moved to and fro, stirring pots of porridge and frying platters of eggs. Bacon sizzled in a large pan. Ramos’s stomach grumbled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

  “Take your boots off and come back here. We can wash the rest of the mud off.”

  Ramos slipped his feet out of the boots and carried them to a side room where a wash tub sat on a tabletop. She poured some water into the tub and scrubbed at the clinging mud.

  “I will take the platter to the council wizards.” The voice froze Ramos in mid-scrape, and his head turned toward the voice. The adept-imminent stood beside the table, reaching for the platter that was normally Ramos’s duty to take to the council.

  “Ramos has been assigned the duty. You do not need to bother yourself with such mundane tasks, sir.” The head cook shook her head, waving him away from the menial task.

  “It is no bother. I am heading that way and would be pleased to serve the council. Tell this ‘Ramos’ that he has the day off. I will attend to their needs.” He picked up the tray and headed to the door, which was being held open by the dish boy.

  “Thank you, kind sir. Just ring the bell in the chambers if anything is needed, and we will bring it immediately.” He nodded and vanished as the door swung closed behind him. Ramos stared at the door, mouth agape, and riveted to the floor. His face paled as the implications of what he’d witnessed, bloomed in his mind.

  “Ramos, what are you doing? You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

  Water dripped from Ramos’s boot, forming a puddle on the floor. “He took the food,” he muttered. “He is going to give it to the council.”

  “Yes, so what? He just gave you the day off.”

  “You don’t understand…the rats!” Ramos gripped his dripping boots in his hands and ran for the door they had just entered, pausing only long enough to shove his feet into them before careening out the door.

  “Ramos, wait!” Cara threw on her boots and hurried off after him. “Where are you going? What about the rats?” She followed his limping form along the soggy path that lead to the back gardens, where even more mud pooled. They had to pause twice to retrieve his errant boot but eventually reached the refuse pit.

  Ramos climbed up on the short wall and scanned the contents. It did not take him long to find them. Five fat, healthy rats lay on the refuse pile, dead.

  Ramos’s heart lurched. This was the evidence he needed. “Do you have a bag?”

  “A bag? Why?”

  “A bag! Do you have one?” he said, impatient. His tone was sharper than he intended.

  “Yes, here.” She reached into her pocket to pull out a cloth bag.

  Ramos scanned the area and found a twig with a Y of branches. “Hold the bag open. Hold it still and do not let any part of the rat touch you.” />
  He reached out with the stick and snagged a rat in the Y, lifting it up and placing it inside the bag. He took a second one and placed it in with its dead companion. “Come, we need to hurry!”

  He headed inside and took off his boots, leaving them at the door and continued on with stockinged feet. Cara copied him running silently down the hall at his side. “I don’t understand, what is going on, Ramos?”

  Ramos told her of his encounter with the adept-imminent and the strange white powder, and how he had been suspicious of its origin and purpose. He told her about spiking the refuse to test his theory.

  “And now, he is taking the food to the chambers to poison the council!”

  “But why would he do that?” said Cara, bewildered. “What possible reason could he have for wanting them all dead? He is an adept-imminent for magic’s sake!”

  Ramos shook his head. “I don’t know. But it is poison. The evidence is in that bag you are carrying! Hurry, we are the only ones that can save them!” He took Cara by the elbow and pulled her along beside him, cursing his gimpy leg.

  They climbed and climbed, and reaching the level of the council chambers, ran to the doors, exhausted and out of breath. Their feet slipped on the polished surface and they slid into the doors, which burst open under their combined weight.

  “Don’t eat the food! It’s been poisoned!” gasped Ramos. All the eyes swung in his direction and focused on him. The wizards, with plates piled high, were halfway through their breakfasts, staring at the winded teens with expressions ranging from surprise to annoyance.

  The adept-imminent stood behind the head wizard, a plate in his hand, frowning at the pair. “What is the meaning of this, adept? I gave you the day off I believe, and this is how you repay me?”

  Ramos stared at the imposter and then at the assembled wizards. They waited, a sea of annoyed expressions floating around the table.