by Brandon Barr
She glanced over at She Grunts tucked snugly in Justen’s left arm. The little skunk watched Payetta from the shadows of Justen’s cloak, as if waiting for her to tell the truth about the attack and Cluckruck’s injury.
Ferren’s raspy old lungs were wheezing close behind, and she wasn’t sure if Daeken had told him what happened. If she was going to obfuscate the truth, she’d need to keep his hairy old ears from listening in.
“A few of Titannus’s men burned down Honey Hideout. I killed most of them but then Daeken came and stole some of my thunder. Well, truth be told, he kind of saved my life.”
Justen glared at her. “I swear, you’re going to leave me a widower before I turn eighteen. What were you thinking?”
“You know me. I’m not one to let reason get in the way of a little hot-blooded ass kicking.”
“Sweetie,” replied Justen in a strained voice. “Taking on Titannus’s raiders by yourself is very, very, stupid.”
Payetta squinted at him. She couldn’t remember him ever calling anything she did stupid before.
He returned her sour gaze by cocking an eyebrow. “You almost got yourself killed.”
“She Grunts was with me and the Stump Hill dog pack. And a few other animals. A bull elk. A lynx. I wasn’t alone.”
Justen’s quick responses suddenly halted for a moment. He finally said, “You controlled all those animals at once? Even the lynx?”
Payetta smiled. “That’s right. Sexy, huh?”
Justen ignored her comment. “You shouldn’t have risked going against that many men. Who cares if they burned down the hideout.”
“It wasn’t just the hideout. They were going to take Cluckruck.”
Justen’s eyes hardened as he turned to her, “Is she all right?”
“Of course she is. Because I intervened. That chicken sleeps on your head almost every night, I wasn’t about to let her become some raider’s lunch. She’s safe now. Dropped her off at Cherry Bury Hideout.”
A drawn sigh passed through Justen’s lips. “As much as I love Cluckruck and her big brown eggs, I’d miss—”
“You’d miss my tender lovemaking more,” cut in Payetta, “and my gentle, kitten-soft spirit. I know. I know.”
“Kitten-soft? Gentle?” He smiled. “All right, I’ll admit I’ve seen your tender side, rare as it may be. But I love you the way you are. Now admit it,” said Justen, lowering his voice to a whisper. “What you did was stupid.”
Payetta scrunched her lips to the side. “It wasn’t smart.”
Justen shrugged, then ducked under a low branch. “I guess that’s close enough.”
“Good. Now let’s drop it. Cluckruck and I are alive. Nine raiders are dead. And I’m married to a handsome hotass ruffian who doesn’t mind putting up with all my bullshit.”
Justen put his hand on her back. “Let’s just say I don’t mind too much.”
The warmth of Justen’s hand on her back was invigorating. No other man would do but Justen. He was her perfect match—perhaps the only match for her.
Payetta took a deep breath and reoriented her focus. She could daydream about how great Justen was later. Right now, she had a war to win.
She halted, bringing the long line of one hundred and eight men to a stop. She bent and placed her hand on the ground, her Eartheye branching out in a large circle.
One of the bats had picked up a form in the darkness. It stood beside the trunk of a large barrel pine.
If it was a sentry for Titannus, she couldn’t risk the man calling out a warning. She had to bring him down quickly. But she couldn’t have Justen kill the figure without knowing for sure if he were friend or foe.
A juvenile raccoon from her furry little army was her spy of choice. The dainty black nose sniffed its way through the underbrush, deftly making its way down an old dog trail. Its little feet came to a stop a safe distance from the figure. The human form stood hidden from the moonlight in the black shadows cast from the barrel pine’s thick branches.
But a raccoon’s eyes could see like magic in the dark. It was just as Payetta had thought. A sentry, equipped with a sheep horn for sounding a warning. Just beyond the man’s position Payetta could see the moonlit fields of South Meadow. They were close now.
Payetta looked up from where she knelt. “Justen, get your bow. There’s a lookout that needs a quick and quiet end.
Justen retrieved his bow. “Take me to him.”
She sprang to her feet when a strong hand fell on her shoulder.
Daeken’s serious face loomed over her, grim in the pale light. “Don’t forget what Titannus is capable of. Watch for his tricks.”
Payetta patted the top of Daeken’s hand that remained on her shoulder. “I’ll be vigilant.” She looked back at Old Ferren who stood at the front of the Heroes Brigade and the farmers. “Stay here until Justen clears the path for us. I’ll send the bats as a signal that he’s taken care of the problem.”
Ferren gave a stiff nod. “Be careful, my dear.”
Payetta winked, but whether Ferren saw it or not, she couldn’t know, for at that moment, a thick dark cloud swept over the moon, casting the forest into darkness.
The dank smell of the oncoming storm seemed to grow even more intense.
Payetta took Justen’s hand and pulled him down the path. Together they raced toward the tree where the sentry stood. As her feet pounded on the soft ground, the first drop of rain fell upon her. She ground her teeth in a vengeful smile, anticipation edging the corners of her lips. Her husband would make a quick kill of the sentry, and then her forces would be at the South Meadow borders.
The storm was coming. And she would bring the thunder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Titannus walked slowly down the bell tower stairs, acquainting himself with Percy’s mind and body as he held out a candle to light his path. The man was tall and thin, not like the stout, large-framed bodies of his Elderhosts of which only one remained.
Possession was a valuable tool in his magical arsenal, and only a handful of other mages could wield it well. But to use this particular magic was a risky maneuver. He’d had to leave his own body slumped against the wall of the bell tower’s upper room, making him an easy kill if anyone should come upon it. Titannus had no way of seeing through his own eyes once he fully took control of an unwilling human body, for to enter a person hostile to his presence required his entire consciousness.
It was a risk he felt compelled to take, for Payetta was a looming threat, and the sooner Hargstead fell and the occupants were put to the sword, the sooner he could focus on the troublesome mage girl. The last thing he wanted was to deal with her and whatever number of fighters she might muster and still have the men of the village at he and his soldiers’ backs.
At the base of the bell tower was a small kitchen and what appeared to be a storage room. In the frail candlelight, he saw empty food bags strewn in a corner, signs of the village’s desperate situation.
There was a hearth with a kettle resting over unburned logs and beside it a narrow door. He turned sideways as he passed through.
On the other side of the door were two men in black cloaks. Each had a green sash draped across their chest. They stood at the sight of him, their dirty faces full of hope.
“Did you get him?” rasped one of the men.
Titannus spoke through Percy. “He didn’t show, but don’t lose hope. I’ll return shortly to try again.”
The two men nodded solemnly and slid down to the ground, their backs against a wall which Titannus noticed held several weapons on hooks. Most of the hooks were empty. Titannus probed Percy’s mind for information. The downside to possessing a man was that he could not readily know what the man knew. He had to dig for the information he wanted. After a moment’s pause, he found the information he needed. The room he stood in was the armory. These two men were members of what was called the Meadow Guard, and Percy, he discovered, was their captain.
Titannus spoke again. “I don’t wa
nt anyone going beyond this door. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. Who would want to anymore? You’re the only one crazy enough.”
Titannus frowned at the disrespectful remark and retrieved the speaker’s name from Percy’s mind. “I’ll try not to take that as insubordination…Culley.”
The man’s face scrunched up in creases, “Is that a joke?”
“Odd time for humor, sir,” said the other man.
Titannus probed Percy’s mind for the second man’s name. Morrwin. Clearly things were run differently here in the Meadowlands. Either that, or the barrier between those in charge and their lessers had broken down.
Titannus tried another angle. “Sorry, my humor is off. That mage is driving me to madness.”
“It’s all right sir,” comforted Culley. “We’re all in that same dark hole.”
Titannus nodded and eyed the dim outline of a door. “I’ll return soon. Remember, no one goes up. Titannus is up to something out there, and I don’t like it.”
The door led to the outside, and Titannus felt a cool breeze whip at his face the moment he stepped through. The musty stench of moisture was in the air, and scattered raindrops fell on his face. A short street ran the length of the village, and a few bedraggled men and women lingered about, weapons drooping from their hands. A scatter of torches kept the village street faintly lit. Titannus gazed appraisingly at the north end of the street where the interior metalwork of the large gate awaited him. It had sizeable crossbeams and support columns that held the thick iron plates in their mountings.
A handful of men stood near the gate. Two wore the black cloaks and green sashes he’d seen on the men inside the armory. Titannus searched Percy’s memory for the names of the two Meadow Guards, but more importantly, for the method by which the gate could be opened. When the answers came, he reached in with one last question: who was the most powerful man in the city?
The answers came readily to mind, and Titannus smiled, pushing up the corners of Percy’s lips. It was time to remove the obstruction that had been keeping out his army, and the plan for it was simple enough.
Titannus strode over to the gate where the five men stood in a circle, talking in low voices. At his presence, one of the men nodded, and all five turned to look in his direction.
“Any luck, Percy?” asked a short, bulb shaped young man.
“None,” replied Titannus. “The mage didn’t show himself once.” He paused and peered over the five faces as a commander might look over his soldiers. “What were you discussing just now?”
The two green-sashed Meadow Guards appeared uncomfortable with the question, both casting their eyes down to his shoes. Rain pattered lightly on the hoods of their cloaks.
“We were talking about Payetta and Justen,” said a tall, skinny man in a grey cloak. “We were speculating on how the Heroes Brigade might have contributed to the defenses of Hargstead if we had respected them and taken their requests more seriously.”
The name of Payetta piqued Titannus’s interest. He delved haphazardly into Percy’s thoughts on the matter and was surprised that the first thing Percy associated with the young mage was deep distrust. When he probed the man’s mind on the Heroes Brigade, he found that Payetta had a husband named Justen, that she was the leader of the brigade, and that Percy considered them his competition and a threat.
Titannus seized this first thought and spun it into a question that could get him quick answers: “Why waste your time on that mage and her troop. They can’t be trusted.”
“We know your feelings about her,” said the tall grey-cloaked man, “but what did you call her, a mage?”
Titannus frowned. Perhaps they used another name for magicians here in the Meadowlands. “Yes,” he replied, “Mage, magician, witch, whatever you want to call her magical talents.”
The two Meadow Guards wore the same scrunched up face that the man in the armory had donned. Did they not know of her abilities? Was this impure mage keeping her magic secret? The questions continued to come, but with five questioning faces looking back at him, he abandoned his quest for information. It was time to return to the night’s business before he created a barrier for himself.
“I’m not being serious,” interjected Titannus, hoping the ambiguity of this statement would alleviate the rift his words had caused between them. He recalled the name of the man in charge of Hargstead, and glanced down the street toward his house. “As to the reason I came to see you five, Mayor Brundig would like a word with you. I’ll hold down the watch until you return.”
A deep silence fell over the five, their eyes narrowing. Titannus squinted back at them, wondering at the Meadowlanders’ strange disregard for direction and disobedience to authority.
“Did you not hear what I said!” growled Titannus. “The mayor wishes your presence!”
“Have you lost your mind, Percy?” said the grey-cloaked man. “I’m right here.”
Titannus stared at the tall man, his error suddenly slamming him like a cold slap in the face. There was only one thing left to do.
Titannus drew his sword and cast an illusion upon it. In the men’s eyes, the size of the blade was twice that of reality, and a forking yellow flame ran the length of it, lighting the men’s faces in a pale ochre glow.
They gasped and fell back against the gate. Titannus moved towards them, knowing full well he wasn’t strong enough to fight more than a few of them. Possessing a ready Elderhost who’d spent years of practice under his control was a far cry different than a victim he’d never known. His magic could only do so much, for nearly all his power went into maintaining control of the unwilling host.
Titannus stormed forward, sword raised so that the blade hung above his head at a menacing angle with the promise of death to anyone who neared. Just behind the men was the lever operating the locking mechanism, and above it were the crossbeams. He didn’t know if he had the strength to push them free while keeping his illusion strong.
The men scattered as he approached, and Titannus sprang upon the lock. The lever pulled down with a clank.
An immediate cry of alarm sounded from behind.
“He’s opening the gate!”
“Stop him!”
Titannus pushed hard on the lower cross beam and the heavy wood ground against the iron holdings before crashing to the ground with a thud. Titannus spun toward the street before attempting the top beam, but it was too late. A sword swung down and he lifted his blade in a desperate counter. The powerful strike glanced off his grip in a spray of blood and bit down into the metal of the handle. Titannus lurched his host’s head forward in a powerful blow and smashed his attacker’s face. In the following step he back slashed with his blade and cut through the man’s neck, nearly decapitating the head.
The dying man fell back and Titannus glanced at his sword grip. One finger had been cut clean off, and another dangled by a thread of flesh. Rushing toward him were the two Meadow Guards and following them ran every man and woman in the street, desperation and terror driving them forward.
Titannus leapt back, dodging the sting of the first guard’s blade. He landed, back against the gate and summoned every last reserve of strength. He thrust his hand forward and lightning coursed from his fingers, forking into the nearest meadow guard’s nose and eyes. The electrical current snapped and sizzled as the body convulsed. His companion veered away at the sight, mouth agape.
Shouts and cries sounded from all around, and Titannus saw that a wall of bodies had formed a distance away, the terror of his electrifying magic had shriveled the Meadowlander’s courage and stopped their feet from coming nearer.
But something was off tune. Titannus saw it in the faces of those Meadowlander’s who carried torches. Their heads were turned up at a sound that carried over the walls in a strange echo. It was the voices of his own men in a cacophony of panic
There was something very wrong going on outside the village gates.
Titannus turned and heaved at the top
beam, gathering all his strength for this last hurdle to conquer. The heavy beam fell with a thud and Titannus dug his feet into the ground and pushed. The iron gate creaked open, the metal hinges popping.
On the other side were his men contorting as if in a bizarre dance. Some hopped on one foot, while others tore at their clothes, as if their skin were on fire beneath. Coming out from the farm field to the north charged a force of armed men.
Titannus pushed the gate fully open and ran out in the field and grabbed the nearest raider and shoved him to the ground. “What foolishness is this!”
The man cried out, ripping at his wool tunic. A form sprang out of the necking, brown-furred and small. Titannus’s brow angled down.
It was a damned mouse!
Everything became clear at once—the young mage was here and she’d sent an army of rodents as her first wave of attack.
Titannus turned back to Hargstead and saw the farmers staring out the open gate.
If his men didn’t come to grips with themselves very soon, they would be cut to pieces from both sides.
He yanked the raider up from the ground and the man stared at him bewildered. “It’s me, Titannus!”
Confusion reigned in the man’s eyes. Titannus held back a curse, the moment too vital to waste on the trivial. Every man of his was aware of his bid to open the gate, and that his body would be left vulnerable up in the bell tower. But in the chaos swirling all around his carefully crafted plan, it had been all but forgotten.
“You idiot!” shouted Titannus. “I need my body retrieved from the upper bell tower. I am Titannus and this is the host body!”
Suddenly recognition lit in the man’s eyes and he nodded. “I’ll gather a contingent of men, Mage Lord.”
“Quickly!” shouted Titannus, then turned and glared off to the north into the woods.
A fuming rage rose up at the back of his throat, burning for release. He clenched his teeth and screamed up at the storm clouds as the rain beat his face. That damned girl. It was her hour to die.
