Castle Raiders

by Max Anthony

  Castle Raiders

  Tales of Magic and Adventure Book 3

  Max Anthony

  © 2017 Max Anthony

  All rights reserved

  The right of Max Anthony to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser

  Cover art by Yuriko Matsuoka

  Cover typography by Shayne Rutherford

  http://www.wickedgoodbookcovers.com/

  Sign up to my mailing list here to be the first to find out about new releases!

  Please visit my website: MAX ANTHONY or follow me on Facebook

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  1

  The road between the town of Gargus and the city of Trilbus was a long one, though not especially arduous. Gargus was situated in the warm northern climes of the Frodgian continent and the further south one journeyed, the cooler it became. This was all relative, since the entirety of Frodgia was temperate, with the result that much of it was prosperous and populous. In spite of this, there were still many remote places in which an adventurer could earn his or her keep by slaying monsters and relieving said creatures of their ill-gotten gains.

  On this day, there were three such adventurers making good progress in the direction of Trilbus. The first by number was Rasmus. He was a wizard of unsurpassed power and his knowledge of most things magical allowed him to unleash jaw-dropping quantities of fiery explosives upon his enemies. Rasmus was unassuming in appearance – not tall and not short, wearing robes of pale green and with an ill-suited black cloak about his shoulders. There was no pointed hat upon his head to identify him a wizard, but he did carry a metal staff, tipped with a glowing orb of an unknown material.

  Accompanying Rasmus was a man known as Viddo Furtive. Viddo was a thief by trade and could unlock almost any door in a few seconds. He could disable all but the most powerful of foes with a single stab of his magical dagger and he could spot a trap from twenty paces, assuming he wasn’t otherwise distracted. In spite of his chosen profession, he wasn’t a man who would steal willy-nilly from the poor, nor indeed from the rich, unless said wealthy individual happened to be evil and grasping. Viddo was slim and dark-haired, with a pointed nose. He carried a dagger, a longsword and a small hand-crossbow, with which he could skewer a moving horsefly.

  Rasmus and Viddo had known each other for many years. They were comfortable in each other’s company and while a casual observer might be fooled into thinking that they argued, the truth was that they were good friends who enjoyed the occasional quip at the expense of the other.

  Accompanying these two gentlemen was a lady, who was the newest member of their party. This lady went by the name of Jera Pillo. She was short, slim and attractive, with tanned skin and with her hair in a ponytail. One might have been surprised to learn that Jera was a trained fighter and a good one. She was inexperienced in the grand scheme of things, but had been taught by the best. Jera carried a magical hammer for the flattening of skulls, and she wore a shield upon her arm. The remainder of her armour was a mixture of magical plate and non-magical chain.

  The trio had been walking for nearly four weeks now. All three were distinctly hale and hearty and not the type to be brought to a halt by blisters or a swollen knee, so they’d made excellent progress. The area around Gargus was not exactly desert as such, though it was definitely parched. A mere twenty-five days walking had taken them to lands which were much more lush and green. The hills were covered in luxurious grass, instead of scrub. There were signs of crops and livestock. Once in a while, there would be a small village to pass through and there were plenty of trees to break up any hint of monotony. They were on their way through a large wooded area, talking.

  “How much longer until we get to Trilbus?” Jera asked.

  “We’re about halfway there, if I’m not very much mistaken,” replied Viddo. Out of the three, he was the only one with a fully-functioning sense of direction.

  “I still maintain that we should have chosen the Merchant’s Highway, instead of travelling these minor roads and backwaters,” said Rasmus.

  “You have not once mentioned the Merchant’s Highway, you scoundrel of a wizard!” said Jera fondly.

  “He has not,” added Viddo, “because he’s as eager as any of us to see some action. The most fun we’ll get on the Merchant’s Highway is coming across a cart with a broken wheel.”

  “I feel lost without my full array of spells!” protested Rasmus. “And this particular route is taking longer than I expected.” The wizard was keen to reach the city of Trilbus, since he kept his spellbook at the university there. Although Rasmus could store a vast array of spells in his mind, as soon as he cast one it vanished from his memory until he could memorise it from his spellbook once again. Over the course of their recent adventures, his arsenal had been whittled away until he was down to the bare bones and he was feeling somewhat vulnerable.

  “I am certain that our chosen route is no longer than the well-trodden alternative,” said Viddo, seeking to reassure his friend. “However, I have noticed that when the scenery is fresh and new, it appears to take more time to travel through it compared to the dullness of a well-paved highway. Our brains are receiving much more stimulation on this secondary route and it is giving the illusion that we are taking longer.”

  Rasmus couldn’t disagree and in reality, he’d have been enjoying things a lot more if he hadn’t been worrying about his spells. “I suppose it’s all new experience,” he said. Both wizard and thief craved danger and excitement – neither could settle in one place for long. Jera wasn’t quite certain exactly what it was that she wanted, yet here she was, willingly travelling with the other two.

  “Did you say this area is new to you as well, Viddo?” asked Jera.

  “If I’ve been here before, I have forgotten about it so completely that even the tiniest of memories is gone from my mind. My years have taken me to many places, so there is a chance that I might have been along some of these minor roads in the past.” He looked up at the surrounding trees. The palm trees of the north had been replaced by numerous deciduous types, none of which Viddo could name. He’d likely climbed each known variety of tree at least once, but he surely didn’t know what any of them were called. Jera caught his look.

  “It would be a bit spooky along here if it were darker,” she said. As if to drive the point home, the trees rustled in a breeze which came from out of nowhere, leaving the air feeling suddenly chill. Where previously there had been the sounds of birdsong, now the only noise was that of the wind blowing through leaves. Overhead, the sky, already obscured by the canopy of trees, appeared to darken as if a
heavy cloud had scooted across the sun.

  “That breeze feels nice up my robes,” said Rasmus, far too experienced in the world of high-danger adventuring to be concerned by looming trees and a bit of wind.

  “Luckily, it’s hardly gone ten in the morning,” Viddo added. “From what I saw of these woods on our approach, we should be out the other side by late afternoon.”

  “Assuming none of us break an ankle on one of these protruding roots that lie in wait for us all along this path,” continued Rasmus.

  “It’s not much of a path at all,” said Jera, distracted from her wandering thoughts. “Not much cause for paved roads in this part of the world, it would appear.”

  Viddo was not always one-hundred percent correct about everything, but on this occasion the three of them did exit the woods by late afternoon. The sky was overcast and it was slightly cooler than it would normally be at this time of year. It wouldn’t start getting dark for another hour or two and they would usually have continued until the darkness made it too dangerous to proceed. Even then, Rasmus could cast a spell of light in case they wanted to keep going.

  “A village,” said Rasmus.

  “Quite a big village,” said Jera.

  They had emerged from the woods high on a hillside. The village nestled in the valley below – a collection of a few hundred wooden-walled shops and houses, which rested on either side of a lazily-flowing stream. There were signs of industry – smoke billowed into the air from what might have been a blacksmith’s forge, while on the opposite side of the stream there was a windmill, which turned steadily. The villagers had evidently made good use of the natural resources available to them and had cut down a large number of trees, leaving hundreds of low stumps all around. There were fields in the distance too, with carefully-arranged crops almost ready for harvest.

  Further along the valley, the woodlands resumed and the countryside climbed steeply upwards into a series of high hills. Here and there the hills became too steep for the trees to cling to, revealing patches of stark grey rock with a thin covering of heather. On one of these hills – not close, but not too far – the turrets and walls of a castle were visible over the tree tops. The details were obscured by distance, yet even so, there was an air of menace about the place, as if the occupants had ruled the surrounding lands by fear for hundreds of years.

  “This looks very cosy, except for that castle over there,” said Viddo. “Just the sort of place to top up on our supplies!” They had brought plenty of food with them, but none of them were the abstemious sort and tended to eat more freely than they should. As a consequence, it was difficult to carry enough food to last for an extended period of time. Rasmus in particular had a fondness for both cheese and chicken, and tended to graze constantly on both when they were available. It was good practise to carry a type of hard, travelling biscuit, that was packed with lifegiving energy and nutrients, whilst also managing to taste like cardboard. Rasmus refused to eat these biscuits on the grounds that life was too short for tasteless food. As it happened, the wizard was in excess of three hundred years old, so any argument he might utter about the shortness of life wasn’t an effective one as far as his own existence was concerned.

  “Do you think they might have a cheese shop?” asked Rasmus. “I always like to try the local variants.”

  “It looks like there could be an inn,” said Jera hopefully. “Imagine how nice it would be to sleep on a soft bed with clean sheets.” Jera had been raised in Gargus and had always had a bed available to return to at home. She was slowly adapting to life on the road, yet still wasn’t quite able to get comfortable when sleeping on the ground. Rasmus and Viddo, on the other hand, rarely slept in a proper bed and had been known to fall asleep variously on scree, in thick, freezing mud, in a blackberry bush and once in a shallow stream. They had got to the stage where they no longer craved a roof over their heads, but were not unsympathetic to Jera’s requirements.

  “Let’s take a look and see what there is to see,” said Viddo, setting off down the hillside.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the closest of the buildings. They looked newly-built and sturdy, as if they’d been constructed with care by someone who knew what they were doing. The alleys between the houses weren’t paved, but deeper within the village they could see that efforts were ongoing to lay slabs of stone onto the hard-packed brown dirt of the wider roads. Everything they saw suggested that the residents were doing their best to make it a place worth living. Of those residents they saw little evidence, with most presumably working fields or involved in their other daily activities which took them away from their homes.

  “It doesn’t look like there’ll be a cheese shop,” said Rasmus glumly.

  “Is it imperative that they have a shop that sells only cheese?” asked a semi-exasperated Viddo. “What about a shop that sells a variety of produce which includes cheese? Will that satisfy you?”

  Rasmus didn’t answer – he was too busy looking at the signs on the few shops which surrounded the central village square they’d just reached. There was an armourer, a general goods shop and a magical items shop, the latter of which was a little out of place in a village so small. To Jera’s delight, there was also a tavern which offered rooms for rent.

  “The Grumpy Wizard!” Viddo exclaimed happily, when he read the name of the tavern. “There’s no way we can pass up on an opportunity to sleep in a place so aptly-named! Let us head there immediately to procure overnight lodgings.”

  “What a dreadful name for a tavern,” said Rasmus, wondering where his reputation for grumpiness had originated.

  The tavern was a two-storey building, constructed of stone and wood. From the outside, it looked clean and well-maintained, an appearance which carried through to the inside. It was dingy, though the owner had tried to combat this state of affairs by having many windows and lighting several oil lamps, even at this early hour. There were a dozen or so wooden tables and chairs in plenty. A few patrons had already arrived for an early-evening mug of ale and as the adventurers entered, they felt several pairs of eyes sizing them up, though with curiosity, rather than hostility. Since the customers were predominantly male, it was mostly Jera who was aware of this sizing up. Rasmus and Viddo delayed not at all, and strode in the direction of the bar.

  The bar keep looked at them and smiled, though there was something strained in the set of his features as if he had burdens that were too heavy for him to carry alone. He was middle-aged and balding, wearing creased linen trousers and a creased linen shirt.

  “What can I get you folks?” he asked.

  “Three cups of whatever ale you recommend,” said Viddo. “Do you have any food on?”

  “I can do you a chicken if you want. Or there’s beef in gravy. We’ve also got fresh bread, brought in this morning,” said the bar keep. “I’d normally have been able to offer you any one of fifteen or twenty cheeses, but the cheese maker sadly passed away last week, so I’ve not had any in stock for a few days now.”

  “A couple of chickens and some bread would be perfect,” said Viddo. “A shame about the cheese maker, though none of us are especially fond of cheese.” Jera giggled.

  Viddo also booked rooms for the three of them and made payment using one of their stash of gold coins. The sight of the coin caused the bar keep to raise his eyebrows and he was almost unable to provide change, having to disappear into a back room for a minute in order to gather sufficient silvers to do so. When he returned, he discovered the three adventurers still at his bar, though where they had previously been holding full cups of ale, now they were holding empty ones. He made haste to fill them up.

  Unable to withhold the question, Rasmus spoke to the fellow. “Why have you named this tavern The Grumpy Wizard?” he asked.

  The bar keep looked at Rasmus, adding up the robes and staff, but deducting the lack of beard and pointy hat from his equation. In the end, he concluded that Rasmus was a cleric and spoke accordingly. “Everyone knows wizards to be
grumpy so-and-sos,” he said. “Always moaning about this, that and the other. Making demands of normal folks that they shouldn’t be demanding of them and then burning their houses down if they don’t answer politely enough.”

  “Yes, yes, I agree wholeheartedly,” said Viddo, nodding as if he were hearing one of life’s greatest truths. “I never did like wizards myself for just those very reasons.”

  “I have always known wizards to be kind-hearted and misunderstood,” said Rasmus, knowing that Viddo was playing games with him. “If I were to open a tavern I might consider naming it The Generous Wizard,” he concluded. The owner did not look convinced. Another customer arrived and the bar keep took his leave in order to serve the newcomer.

  “Bar keeps are usually a gold mine of information and rumour,” said Viddo. “Perhaps I shall grill this fellow when he returns.”

  “That is a fine idea,” said Rasmus, not at all upset by the man’s choice of name for his tavern. “It takes me back to the days when one would have to rely on the local bar keep in order to locate any likely quests and dungeons.”

  “They’re a funny sort, bar keeps,” said Viddo, remembering things anew. “They might have a dozen interesting pieces of gossip, but they never volunteer them all at once – one always needs repeat the question for each snippet they have.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Jera in puzzlement.

  “Just watch,” said Viddo, seeing that the bar keep had finished with the other customer. The thief leaned against the bar and adopted an air of casual interest. “Anything of note happening in these parts?” he asked, directing his question at the bar keep.