Mad Mage: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 3 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  “You insolent, pathetic, sorry excuse for a witch,” Am-Tor yelled, spittle coming from the fine slits in the metal mask where his mouth should be. “I will kill you myself from here.”

  Dareen sighed, seeing the man hold his staff up as if showing it to whomever was watching through his magic peeping glass. She understood that in seconds, she would die where she stood. Her time was up. Her manacles were essentially a pair of handcuffs and a pair of ankle cuffs that were chained onto one main set of links that held the four together. Reaching back into her hair, which she had to do with both hands close together, she found her wand and pulled it out, muttering the lone word of opening, and touching it to the chain dangling in front of her. She spoke loudly. “We will die together, Kesh.”

  The metal flashed a small but intense light as the cuffs obeyed the command from her spell. The metal was from the earth itself, and she commanded the element to open. The iron complied, and they fell from her hands and legs. She bit on her wand and grabbed the main length of chain and started to twirl to her left, seeing Alister for a brief second nodding at her in encouragement. To throw the heavy locks, she would need momentum, and her spinning motion was giving that to her. She completed the three-hundred-sixty-degree pivot, manacles out in front of her due to centrifugal force, and prepared to hurl them at the magic-user. She ignored the startled looks on the faces of her escorts as they blurred past her vision while she made her twirl.

  At the last minute, she did not release her restraints, instead continuing another quarter turn and hurling them to her left, due west back toward the dungeon door directly at Alister. The man’s face went livid with rage, and his entire appearance shimmered and he appeared as he always did to her, as that of a Kesh wizard. His spear shimmered and became a staff, and he managed to utter one word of defiance before invoking his spell, saying, “Fool!”

  “Silis, kill her now,” Jakar yelled.

  Dareen’s momentum swung her around to face the opposite direction from Alister, and she found herself eye to eye with the Balarian assassin. The man gritted his teeth at her and already had his dagger drawn, plunging it at her chest. She didn’t have time to close her eyes and could only expect to feel the impact as the small but sharp blade pierced her heart. Instead, the Balarian’s eyes widened and started to roll back into his head as a feathered arrow magically sprouted from between the man’s eyes. The force at which the arrow hit the man arrested the forward movement of his blade, and the tip cut into her chest, slightly drawing blood before it scraped along her ribcage as the man fell to the ground, bringing the dagger with him.

  Dareen didn’t have time to see Alister let go of his staff after casting his spell and falling to the ground where he brought his heavy cloak up and over him, covering him from what was to come. She also didn’t see the chain hit his staff and wrap around it, with the cuffs speeding in circles as the distance they had to travel became shorter and shorter with each revolution of the chain. What she did manage to see were the cuffs, all four of them, finally impact on the staff and explode into four distinct fireballs, larger than anything she had ever imagined in her life.

  The blast incinerated the entire contingent of dungeon guards, as well as half the guards posted along the courtyard’s walls. The heat that came from the blast was so intense that it washed over her in waves, singeing her hair and knocking her on her back, along with everyone else in the area as the explosion created a pressure wave in front of it. Luckily, she had just taken her wand in her hand from where it was between her teeth when the blast knocked her down.

  She lay on her back, looking into the dark sky and feeling the soft raindrops as they pattered on her skin. She wasn’t shivering any longer, not after the heat rolled over her and everyone else, warming the very air within a stone’s throw distance in any direction. Sitting up, she tucked her wooden wand back in her hair as she usually did and pulled Silis’ dagger from his dead hand. She saw Jakar sitting up and glaring at her with hate and murder in his eyes. She didn’t wait to see what he would do; instead, she leaped to her feet and ran toward Alister, who was even now standing up and retrieving his staff. She had to stop him before he killed her.

  Dorsun had knocked the only two guards at the doorway out with Darker’s billy club. Targon had peered over the top of the stairs as he drew his bow and arrow and shot at something unseen to his companions. Most every guard had their backs to them, and something intense was happening, as there were shouts and screams and then the very air exploded around them.

  Dorsun pulled Targon back down, and the Ulathan landed on top of him, knocking the breath out of him. Fire burned above them and threatened to consume them even though they were below ground level and in the relative safety of any line of sight to the blast. Khan conjured another spell that he had learned from Elister, calling forth the element of wind and directing a gale force blast from his staff out and away from them. This held the fireball that was expanding in their direction at bay and saved perhaps a few Kesh guards as well, though most perished in the initial explosion.

  Getting to their feet, the trio, rising above the stairs in front of Khan, surveyed the destruction at their feet. The blast was close to them, and they were lucky to have not died in it, but it was the small, petite Ulathan woman running across the courtyard at the source of the blast that immediately grabbed their attention. A Kesh wizard was throwing off his smoldering cloak and patting down his clothes and robe, as they smoked from the intense heat that they had been exposed to. The magical protection of his spell and heavy cloak were specifically designed to weather the explosion of four fireballs, but not at point-blank range. There was supposed to be a healthy distance between Alister and the trap once it was set off.

  The man grabbed his staff that had remained upright when it discharged the anti-fire magic that Alister had evoked, and he shook off the remnants of his magical trap. The heavy length of chain remained wound around the staff, as it was protected by the staff’s magic when the cuffs exploded. The man faced off against the crazed woman running at him with an assassin’s dagger from Balaria. Smoke streamed from her clothes and hair, and she looked filthy. Her energy and activity belied the fact that she appeared exhausted as well.

  Seeing the woman, there was a word yelled out in that dark courtyard that wasn’t normally used under any situation. Targon yelled at the top of his lungs, “Mother!” He didn’t wait, leaping to her defense and running at the mage who was about to engage with Dareen.

  The first blow of the dagger was blocked easily by Alister, who countered with a blow of his staff against her hand. It bruised her, and she almost lost her grip of her blade. Alister scowled at her and said, “You fool. You almost killed me. For that, you will die.”

  Dareen was tired and tried to hit the man twice before he finally knocked the blade from her hand, and then he hit her against her temple, causing her to lose her footing as her brain tried to function and keep her on her feet. She fell backward and landed hard, with her head striking the flagstones of the courtyard and lacerating her skull. Blood flowed freely from the wound, and she looked up with dazed and unfocused eyes on her would-be killer. Alister stood over her and raised his staff as if to bring it down and spear her with its sharp bottom edge. Then a blur rammed into the man, and there was nothing but a dark rainy sky.

  “No,” Alister yelled, falling to the ground as the huge woodsman barreled into him. The man had picked up a length of chain, all that remained of his mother’s manacles and symbol of her imprisonment, and the Ulathan Ranger wrapped it around the Kesh wizard’s neck.

  Alister struggled for air, grasping desperately at the chains that now threatened to end his existence on this planet. He let go of his staff and struggled to kick the man, but he was too large and too powerful, especially in this hand-to-hand combat. Allowing one hand to reach to his own belt, he gripped the hilt of his own dagger and pulled it from its leather sheath. He saw the veins of his opponent bulge within the man’s neck under the inten
se struggle. The Kesh wizard had one last chance to kill this man and live, and with great effort, he brought his blade back and tried to plunge it into the Ulathan’s neck.

  Instead, a woman’s dirty foot stepped on his forearm, driving both it and the blade into the broken ground consisting of dirt and charred flagstone. Alister’s vision started to go blurry, but he saw the Ulathan warrior with a look of rage on his face, and then the peasant woman known as Dareen peered over her son’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. The last words he heard in life were from her as she said, “I told you my sons were coming for me.”

  Targon stood, resisting the urge to kick the man, and instead turned to face his mother as she swooned and fell into his arms. He held her gently and stroked her hair back from her face, which had finally cooled and no longer burned. “Mother, are you all right?”

  She smiled at him and struggled to stand, but Targon held her against his chest, not allowing her to drop to the ground. “I’ll be fine now. What took you so long?”

  The question was meant as a jest, but Targon’s pained expression indicated that he was taking it too literally. “I came as quickly as I could.”

  “No, silly,” Dareen said, raising a hand to touch his face. “You came exactly when I needed you.” She continued to stroke his face, and he returned her smile.

  “Never again,” Targon said, his resolve firming and his anger resumed its intense smoldering.

  Dareen shook her head slightly but continued to smile at him. “Do not hate, my son.” She coughed, and her face was pained for a moment as she grimaced due to her internal injuries. “Your brother and sister . . . safe?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Targon said, at least with regards to his sister. “Ann is at home. I will take you to her.”

  There was another commotion as metal struck metal, and Salina came into view, speaking quickly. “My apologies to you both, but we don’t have time for this. We need to leave . . . now!”

  “Stop,” a voice boomed out from above. The voice was familiar and filled with hatred. “You dare attempt to kill me in my own home?”

  Targon turned his neck to see the High-Mage looking down at them, and then a voice behind him spoke, a voice belonging to Khan. “You have no home here, old master. Leave now and allow a more accomplished mage to rule from the Black Tower.”

  The man spit and gurgled with rage and anger. His words were at first unintelligible, until he could compose himself and yell, “You dare come here, you traitorous, backstabbing, no good, filthy excuse for an apprentice rebel!”

  Khan returned the insult. “You have no eloquence in speech, presentation, grammar, or informative command. Go back to the academy and learn how to speak properly before you pose as a ruler of our once-great realm.”

  Dorsun finished his last opponent with a thrust to the man’s torso, dropping him like the proverbial sack of potatoes. He hissed at Khan with a sense of urgency and caution in his voice. “This is not the place or the time, Master.”

  Khan nodded at his trusted servant and whispered back, “I know. Now prepare to run.”

  “You will die for this,” Am-Tor said, raising his staff and summoning a great ball of energy. In the blast, his personal critir had fallen and rolled back into the chamber where Edward was busy searching for it.

  Khan leaped to the side and rolled as the energy blast hit the exact spot where he had been standing. Khan managed to yell one word at his companions. “Run.”

  The young rebel wizard somersaulted to his feet, and pointing his staff at his former mentor, he released his own electrical blast, hitting the High-Mage squarely in the chest. The effect was not what Khan was looking for. Am-Tor seemed to bask in the energy and laughed as it scattered around the man, his staff, and the balcony, seeking a way to dissipate and go to ground.

  “You traitor,” Jakar said, firing his own ball of fire at Khan, who had to summon the wind element a second time, deforming the shape of the blast into two smaller balls that passed on either side of him.

  Targon picked Dareen up off her feet and ran with her in his arms as if she were a child. She was so malnourished that she barely weighed more than her daughter did. The trio ran to the stairwell that led to the dungeons.

  Seeing where they were headed, Dareen protested. “Please, Targon, don’t take me back there.”

  “Master, come.” Dorsun ran but looked at the flaming courtyard and the magical battle taking place there. The trio of Ulathans stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back. Dorsun was right behind them, but Khan was a good half stone’s throw away and engaged with the High-Mage, as well as a fellow wizard. Against only the High-Mage, there was no chance of success, and against both, Khan’s death would be quick, indeed.

  “What is that?” Salina pointed at the troops entering the outer gate, led by a Kesh wizard in the usual attire at the head of the column. “Reinforcements?”

  The new group didn’t seem intent on them, instead focusing on the High-Mage and the Onyx Tower. Most of the elite guards were dead, but the few who remained were standing in a line at the base of the tower. The rain continued to come down, and the torches, as well as anything else burning, struggled to consume its fuel sources against the onslaught of nature. One voice rang out in challenge, changing the entire situation. “Imposter, I impeach you.”

  The High-Mage, so intent was he on his hate and rage at his former apprentice and the audacity that the lesser man would show up and challenge him in his own execution courtyard, failed to note the arrival of a far greater threat. With narrowing red eyes behind the glass of the iron mask, Am-Tor turned his attention to the new arrival. “Am-Shee, the fool.”

  “Run, Khan, run,” Salina yelled.

  “Come, Master.” Dorsun motioned with his hand and gave a menacing look at the nearest elite black tower guards threatening to pursue them.

  Khan didn’t need further encouraging, turning and fleeing the courtyard and leaving his opponents for another day. Jakar found himself turning to face the great Arch-Mage Am-Shee, and the result wasn’t disappointing. The mage pointed his staff and hurled an electrical bolt of energy that hit the wizard’s staff, driving it into the man’s chest, and Jakar flew off his feet more than a quarter stone’s throw to land at the base of the Onyx Tower in between a pair of stunned elite troops loyal to the current High-Mage.

  The troops pouring into the courtyard from the gate wore typical Kesh garb, but each had a small blue strip of cloth tied around their right arms between their elbows and their shoulders, indicating that they were with the Arch-Mage Am-Shee. Dozens of them poured in, with crossbowmen lining in a two-deep front row. Taking a knee and aiming, they shot nearly two dozen bolts at the High-Mage.

  Am-Shee struck his staff into the ground, and the very earth trembled under their feet. Then a flock of ravens flew toward the tower and right at the High-Mage in an effort to distract and confuse the man.

  Khan joined them, and Salina said, “Time to leave.”

  Dareen shook her head, and Targon said, “We go in and then we go out. That is my promise to you, Mother.”

  The group returned into the dungeons of Keshtor and ran at close to full speed. Salina led them, with Targon carrying his mother right on her heels, as both Dorsun and Khan struggled to catch up. Dareen had her hands around her son’s neck, and she pressed her head into his chest and kept her eyes closed.

  “Wait, let me take lead,” Dorsun said. “We may encounter more guards.”

  “I’m not waiting,” Salina said, running toward another fork in the corridor.

  “Neither am I,” Targon said, noting how much the return to these dungeons affected his mother. “We are leaving as quickly as we can.”

  “Well, then at least veer left this time,” Khan yelled from the rear as Dorsun practically pulled him along. “Otherwise, we will end up back at the Black Tower.”

  Salina followed that instruction, as well as three more, before they found a side door and stairwell that led directly outside. Th
ey never encountered any more guards, and when they returned to the inner complex, they found themselves in the soft rain again with the sounds of thunder and explosions coming from the Onyx Tower in the distance.

  A group of soldiers rounded one of the drum towers and caught sight of the group in the dim light. Dorsun stepped forward and pointed in the direction of the Black Tower. “The rebels are attacking the High-Mage. Hurry! Protect the mage. Protect our leader.”

  The guards nodded without a word and continued in the same direction they were originally heading. Dorsun could only shrug at the odd looks he was receiving from the Ulathans before Khan interrupted them. “Head to the postern door, the same one we entered by.”

  The group ran into the dark night and found the postern door after only a few minutes. Breakers came out of the soldier’s hut and asked, “Is everything all right, Commander?”

  Dorsun nodded at the man and said, “Yes, the High-Mage found the rebels, and they are fighting even now. We have casualties and spies we need to interrogate, but the entire area has been compromised.” Breakers nodded but then looked at the Ulathans with suspicion, especially seeing as how one carried an obvious prisoner and the other, another Ulathan woman, was armed with a sword. “I know,” Dorsun explained. “We have a wizard’s apprentice here to help us, so open the door quickly now.”

  Breakers was a man of limited mind and vision, but he knew enough of tactical military situations to know that every reinforcement was headed or likely to head to the Onyx Tower, leaving him alone with this group of Ulathans, a Kesh commander, and an obvious magic-user, apprentice, wizard, or otherwise. Wisdom spoke loudly to the man in his mind, and he nodded and headed back into the room to pull the lever and open the postern door.

  Without further word, only a nod and a smile from Dorsun, Breakers watched as the group departed. He shut the door and returned to lock it. After some thought, he decided after the second large round of explosions and the huge ball of fire that went into the air, that he would not report his door as being used for the night. Not unless a wizard asked him directly. Breakers would live to see another day.