Knight's Justice_Age Of Magic_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by P. J. Cherubino

  “It pulled magic from me,” he gasped.

  “What were you thinking at that moment?” Vinnie asked, and Tarkon hesitated. “Be forthcoming. It’s important.”

  “I was thinking about making love to Moxy,” Tarkon said. His light-brown face reddened.

  “Do you use magic when you make love?” Vinnie asked.

  “Hey!” Tarkon snapped, looking angry.

  “Oh, you box-dwellers and your shyness about sex,” Moxy said. She gave his arm a slap. “Sometimes,” Moxy replied. “I like it when he—“

  Vinnie held up his hand and grinned. “I get the picture.” He thought for a moment. “Tarkon, I want you to pick up the stone again, but this time don’t think about anything involving magic.”

  “That will be easy,” Tarkon said. “I’ll think about strangling you for asking me questions about my sex life.”

  He picked up the stone. It didn’t glow.

  “Now,” Vinnie ordered, “think about hitting me with a fireball.”

  “Ah, I was only joking. I don’t want to fight you.”

  “Then think about fighting the people who attacked us.”

  The stone suddenly glowed bright white.

  “I can’t let go!” Tarkon shouted. “It’s draining me!”

  Moxy snatched the stone from his hand and it dimmed after a moment.

  “Do you feel tired?” Vinnie asked.

  “Like I just got done with a fight.”

  “But it doesn’t glow for Moxy,” Vinnie observed.

  “I’m not a magic user,” Moxy said.

  “ The magic seems to have altered your people long ago. It’s probably within you, but you don’t wield it.” Vinnie stroked his pointed beard and paced back and forth. “Internal versus external.”

  “Are you telling me these glowing rocks can power magical weapons?” Tarkon asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Vinnie declared. “And I’m telling you much more than that. Light, heat, attractive force, lightning; all of these are forms of energy. It all comes from magic, which is the purest form of energy. But if these stones can pull magic from us and produce light, then it stands to reason that they can store magic and yield all the other forms of energy!”

  “I have no idea what you just said,” Tarkon replied, “but good luck with that.”

  Moxy tossed the rock back to Vinnie. “I suppose you’ll come back up to eat.”

  “No,” Vinnie said. He turned back to the stones. “I’m staying here until I have more answers. Besides, I always have food with me.”

  Back at Keep 49

  “I think showing them the full force of my rifle might have been a mistake,” Liesel said.

  Hagan had made sure to give them an entire suite of rooms in the keep, but Liesel made sure no spies listened at the door. They were far inside the rooms and away from the windows.

  Yarik had arranged his tools and instruments on what should have been a dining table. He tinkered absently while Liesel spoke.

  “Possibly, dear.” He met her eyes for just a moment. “But only time will tell. Even if it was, we can play them any way we want.”

  “How do you figure?” Liesel asked.

  Yarik carefully set down a tiny spanner in a tray where delicate screws, wedges, and finely-machined axles and gears were laid out in precise grids.

  “Even if we give them weapons only half as powerful, they will be hundreds or maybe thousands of times more powerful than anything they’ve ever seen. They’ll be happy to get even the crudest weapons, which unfortunately are all I’ll be able to make until I get access to high-quality steel and pure copper.”

  “And if they demand more?”

  “Unlikely, but if they do, we’ll tell them that the home they’re so proud of simply can’t produce the technology we need to create truly sophisticated weapons. They want what we have so badly that they’ll be ashamed to argue with us. These people are proud to a fault, and I plan to use that against them to maximize our profit.”

  Liesel smiled, sat down, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized was trapped inside her anxious chest. “This is why you’re the master.”

  Yarik smiled. “Please, sweet one, save your flattery for our customers.”

  Liesel snickered and asked, “But what did you think of their machine shop?”

  “Ha! I’d hardly call it that. Their metal lathe is crude, but with some modifications I think it will be adequate for a prototype. Of course, I’ll have to charge them extra for that.”

  “So this place won’t work for a factory?”

  “It will,” Yarik replied. “You and I will make about twenty low-power rifles at first, just to keep them at bay. They won’t be nearly as pretty as ours.”

  “It will be just like the first factory you told me you helped build. We use the old equipment to make better parts, then we build better equipment, starting with a precision lathe,” Liesel said.

  “Then a metal roller, a screw-cutting lathe, an automatic hammer, a casting forge, an annealing oven, a—“

  “OK, OK.” Liesel held up her hands. “I get it. We have a lot of work to do.”

  “Has your new love interest found any talented sources of labor to help us with all this work?”

  “Yes. I put the question to him last night,” Liesel said with a Cheshire-Cat grin.

  “And? Was he able to resist your charms?”

  “Of course not,” Liesel replied. “He is scouring the countryside looking for reliable smiths and craftspeople. He has tons of cheap labor at his disposal for the dumb and dirty heavy labor.”

  “Dumb and dirty will do,” Yarik said, chuckling at the alliteration. “I want you to use that uncanny ability you have to spot talented craftspeople we can use. You and I are master builders, but we can’t do it all alone. We need to train people who have the correct abilities.”

  “It’s not their abilities I worry about,” Liesel countered. “It’s teaching people how to make magitech that they could use against us.”

  “I share your concern,” Yarik replied, “but it is a necessary risk. I’ll use a three-point strategy: keep them too busy to think about what they’re building, pay them well enough that they won’t care, and show them what happens to people who disagree with us.”

  “It’s just like you always taught us,” Liesel said. “Power is wealth and wealth is power. One can easily be converted into the other.”

  But using the word “us” only reminded Liesel that she’d lost the rest of her family—her mother, a sister, and a brother—because they hadn’t had enough power. But in this place they had power in the form of weaponry. The rest would follow.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A Shifting Landscape

  Astrid spent most of the night meditating in an isolated corner of the keep. She drew just enough power from the Well to keep her from freezing to death in the sub-zero weather. Her mind drifted above the sounds of the winter woods that managed to climb over the walls.

  Mostly she let the sounds and vibrations of the Keep, which was now a military base, wash over her. She imagined each thought as skipping a stone over the surface of a lake of pure sensation.

  Only in the last few hours of moonlight did she let herself fall asleep.

  She woke as the earliest light of day crept up on the horizon. She cracked one eye open when she heard the faintest hint of footsteps.

  “Hello, Moxy,” Astrid said, breaking into a smile.” She rolled her head around a few times, then shrugged her shoulders. She rose fully refreshed and turned toward the sound not many would have heard.

  “Shit!” Moxy’s voice came from a ghostly shimmer beside a snow drift. “I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

  “I have caught you once out of at least four times since we’ve met. I’d say you’re doing OK.” Now that she had released the magic, the bitter cold began to nag at her. “I could use something warm to drink.”

  She headed toward Woody’s tent, where two Civil Guard stood watch. Both men looked
shocked at Astrid and the small woman with long white hair who seemed to appear from nowhere and wore not a stitch of clothing.

  “Good morning,” Moxy said to them. They tried to keep their eyes from disrespectful wanderings. “Oh, it’s OK to look,” Moxy said. “Just don’t touch.”

  Their laughter broke the tension. “You must be Moxy,” one of the men declared. “You’re a legend already.“

  “In the flesh,” Moxy replied. They snickered again. “We’ll bring you some hot tea.”

  “No thanks,” the other man replied. “We just got on shift. We’re OK.” He turned to Astrid. “But you might want to demote us. We didn’t see her sneak in here.”

  “If I demote you, what does that say about me?” Astrid joked. “She’s sneaked up on me more times than I care to admit.”

  The guards held the tent flap open and Astrid stepped through. They found Woody shirtless in front of the wood stove washing his face. Astrid paused for a moment of respect at the scars that covered Woody’s muscular torso.

  “We’re all early risers,” Woody declared. He gestured to a kettle on the stove. “You can make tea with that.”

  Woody didn’t bother to put a shirt on as Astrid prepared tea. They sat right down and got to business. Moxy provided all the details about the attack on the caves that the few urgent messages had not.

  “And they were after the stones…” Astrid’s voice trailed off, eyes unfocused. “Those probably powered the weapon that took Vinnie down.” Her voice was unsteady. “What did Vinnie discover about the rocks?”

  Moxy shrugged her shoulders. “He started talking about energy and magic and he just lost me completely.”

  “He’s a thinker, that one,” Astrid observed. “When we first met, he told me he was looking for the true source of magic. I thought he was crazy at first, but these stones make me wonder.” Astrid let the statement hang for a moment. “It sounds like he has enough information to work with now. We, on the other hand, seem to be blind.”

  “We need to know what those shitbags are up to,” Woody growled, then sipped his tea thoughtfully.

  “Which is why I called you here, Moxy,” Astrid said. “We need to recon—“

  “Good,” Woody broke in while Astrid tried to continue. “I need to go on a good mission. It ain’t stealing or raiding, but recon trips are fine by me.”

  “Ah—” she started to say.

  “Oh, no,” Woody declared, jaw clenched. “I’m doing this job for you, so I get to go on a mission. I deserve that!”

  “You already know the answer, Woody. I need you here.”

  “Bullshit,” Woody pleaded. “Come on, I’m going crazy here. I have my tent, but these walls…and the paperwork…”

  “Oh, cry me a fucking river,” Astrid said with a sadistic smirk. “I was buried in parchment before I got here.”

  “Yeah, but you’re here,” Woody shot back, slapping the table.

  Astrid shrugged. “You brought it on yourself. You’ve made yourself indispensable.” She waited for a few beats to let Woody fume, then grew serious. “Woody, the truth is that I don’t trust anyone else to hold this place together. I don’t think anyone else could do it.”

  “Damn it,” Woody snarled. “When did you learn how to work me so good? Too much time with Gormer!”

  Astrid patted his hand. “You’re called to service, just like me.”

  Muffled shouts came through the tent walls and they all sat up straight and pulled in tense breaths. The shouts of, “Messenger! Messenger!” became clear.

  Seconds later a tall slender woman pushed open the flap. She stumbled over to the table and handed Woody a roll of parchment.

  “Tea, water, cot, then food,” Woody ordered, pointing to each item in turn. He unrolled the dispatch. “In that order. You need rest.”

  The young woman complied with obvious gratitude while Woody read the note.

  “Shit,” he declared. “It’s starting already. Two Movers—Hagan and Wilfred—have taken Keep 49. That’s close to Keep 17, which is on our side. But still, that’s way too close.” He handed the scroll to Astrid.

  “That’s not all,” Astrid said after a quick read. “They’re holding those guards who tried to escape. They’re holding a commissioner too.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Moxy asked, her claws extending just a bit for emphasis.

  “A jailbreak maybe?” Astrid replied with a grin.

  Woody stood up from the table and paced for a moment. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and went over to another table where he kept the maps.

  “I know the right folks for the job,” he said, unrolling a big map of the Eastern District. “Some of my tribemates used to pull capers on that estate, and a few of them are here in the keep. You can have them, and they’d love to go. Might take the pressure off, too. The woods people and former guards are getting along, but there’s been a bit of friction.”

  “I guess it’s hard to change your ways overnight,” Astrid observed.

  “Well, yeah,” Woody said, looking up from the map. “The Dregs need a purpose. Before, our purpose was getting enough food for our families and keeping the caves safe. Then it was taking this place from Lungu’s son. Now we have another problem, but what happens after that? I fear what happens when we don’t have enough capers to pull.”

  Astrid nodded. And you wonder why I put you in command, she thought. “Woody, I promise you we will come up with a solution for that. You’re right. Unity through shared struggle can only carry us so far.”

  Woody gave a somber nod. They studied the maps and made their plans.

  “This is going to be fun,” Moxy said when they were done.

  “Don’t rub it in,” Woody snarled.

  “Sorry,” Moxy replied. “We’ll bring you a souvenir.”

  “What’s going to be fun?” a voice asked behind them. “Am I missing the fun?”

  They all gave a little start. Jiri Petran stood just inside the tent with a broad smile on his face and cocked his head at their apprehensive looks.

  “What?” the strong, confident man asked, suddenly looking sheepish. “Did I interrupt… Did I remember correctly? Woody, we said we’d meet for breakfast.“

  Woody slapped his forehead. “Something came up and I forgot about you.”

  Jiri smiled and wiped pretend sweat from his forehead. “I thought I would have trouble working with the woods people,” he admitted. “The people I’m used to would have made up some lie and try to blame me for not remembering our appointment. That’s what passes for diplomacy among Protectorates.”

  “Sounds like you’re used to dealing with dipshits,” Woody said.

  Jiri’s eyes widened and for a moment Astrid couldn’t tell if his shock was the precursor of umbrage, but then he burst out laughing. “Woody, you are a welcome refreshment,” Jiri declared.

  “Never been referred to as a refreshment before,” Woody said, baring his teeth in a frightening smile. He stroked his red beard, then considered Jiri carefully. “Diplomacy is about exchange of trust, right?”

  Astrid kept a poker face. Jiri gave a slow nod and waited for the follow-up.

  “My boss here, “ Woody pointed a calloused finger at Astrid, “she’s gonna need all the muscle she can get. If you want to make good on your pledge of blood and fire, you can go with her on a mission.”

  “I accept,” Jiri replied without hesitation, and broke into a free and natural smile. “Believe me, it will be my pleasure. Wilfred invited me to this conflict when he attacked me and mine on the road.”

  “Yeah,” Woody began, “about your troops—“

  “I think,” Jiri interrupted, “that they would be more useful to you here. I leave them under your command.”

  “You must be a mind reader,” Woody said.

  “Careful now,” Jiri replied, his smile slipping. “Comparisons between Petrans and Reachers are quite unwelcome.”

  “My first diplomatic fuckup,” Woody declared almost p
roudly.

  The Reachers came from the Vasile Protectorate to the south. Their magic involved mental projections that manipulated emotions, mostly fear.

  “It likely won’t be the last.” Jiri sighed. “But you’ve earned a lot of leeway with me already. I’m hoping to do the same.”

  “We’ll see,” Woody replied, locking eyes with Jiri.

  Astrid was shocked. Woody had just let Jiri know he didn’t completely trust him yet. Neither did Astrid, for that matter, but she was about to put Jiri to the test. Leaving his people behind and traveling alone with Astrid was certainly a grand gesture of trust on his part.

  The Situation at Keep 49

  Astrid wanted to keep the expedition small. Before they left the keep, she argued strenuously for a ten-person team. Now, on the edge of an icy field while spying the Wilfred Estate from the tree line, she was glad she had lost the argument.

  She was doubly glad to have good people around who called her out when her thinking was off.

  “Hard to sneak up on either the Keep or the Estate across these damn fields,” James, one of the Civil Guard, remarked.

  “I wish that fat guy was here,” one of the woods people, Kelly, remarked. She pulled her furs closer around her face and adjusted the longbow on her back. “I heard he can tunnel through the ground.”

  “I miss him too,” Astrid replied. “Vinnie is one-of-a-kind.”

  “How long has it been?” James asked.

  “No idea,” Astrid replied. “None of us have timepieces.”

  “Ehem.” Kelly cleared her throat and nudged Astrid.

  Astrid followed the direction of Kelly’s pointing finger. It was hard to see from this angle, but the main tower of the estate featured a large clock face. “Only two like it in the whole protectorate,” Kelly replied. The Wilfred Estate used to be a house of engineers. Now they’re just goat-cocks.”

  The sound of crunching snow in the field alerted them to Moxy’s approach, and they watched her tiny footprints appear in the snow. Without clothes against a field of white, Moxy’s camouflage magic made her nearly impossible to detect. Astrid had to squint hard to detect a shimmer moving across the field.