Etheric Knight

by P. J. Cherubino

  Jiri ignored the jibe, but Squire looked miffed.

  “There are more on the way,” Jiri reported. “Looks like ex-estate troops, and the Kostree rabble all want the same thing.” Jiri glanced at Daku when he said the word ‘rabble.’ It appeared to Astrid he wasn’t above making jibes of his own.

  They needed a plan, and fast. Astrid paused. Numerous moving parts, she thought. How the hell are we gonna get out of this one? I don’t want to fight the whole damn town.

  “Let’s give them what they want,” Costin suggested.

  “What are you talking about, Costin,” Gormer snapped. “No way we’re giving them Charlie.”

  “Of course not,” Costin agreed. “They don’t want Charlie. They don’t even know what an Arbori is.” Costin paused. “I don’t either, come to think of it. No, right now, they are scared shitless. They just want to do something they think will save them.”

  “I hate myself for saying this,” Daku said, smiling despite herself. “But I like the way you think. You think like one of us.”

  “Of that I am proud,” Costin said with a curt nod and his eyes locked with Daku to demonstrate he was serious. “This is my idea: we stage a fake fight. You get away, of course. Then, we pretend to organize a raid on the fortress to get Charlie.”

  Astrid balked. “What makes you think Charlie is in the fortress.”

  Costin sighed. “Look, I don’t blame you for being suspicious of me so let me put your mind at ease—I’m not your friend. When this is over, I will still oppose you. But this...whatever it is...it’s a bigger problem for the Lungu Protectorate than you. You may find this hard to believe, but I still have my honor. I swore an oath to protect this land. My ancestors kept this land safe from the remnant, and I will be damned by the Matriarch and Patriarch if I don’t stand against that threat now.”

  The color rose in Costin’s cheeks as he spoke. Veins on his neck bulged, and the muscles of his jaw clenched as he bit down on nothing between words. But all the while, his hair remained perfectly in place. Astrid marveled at the durable grooming.

  Astrid let him cool for a moment and studied him carefully.

  “Believe it or not, as you say,” she began. “I choose to believe you.” He deflated at her easy smile.

  “You there, mental magician.” Costin directed his attention to Gormer.

  “Name is Gormer, dickbag.”

  Costin massaged his forehead with thumb and forefinger. “Patience,” he muttered. “Must have patience.” Louder, he continued, “Gormer, can you use your skills to send a message to the exiles?”

  “I can tell who they are,” Gormer said. “They’re the ones who think they’re better than everybody else. But you’re the only one I can’t read, strangely enough.”

  “You people are relentless,” Costin remarked, trying to find something to sustain him up in the surprisingly clean rafters. “Just tell them to let Astrid escape. Tell them I have a plan. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Are you telling me…you’ll lie to your own people?” Daku challenged suspiciously.

  “If it comes to that, yes,” Costin confirmed. “But I’m hoping both you and I can work it out, so we won’t have to.”

  Daku gave him a look of respect and nodded her head.

  Gormer’s eyes glowed white once again. He stood perfectly still for a few moments until beads of sweat ran down his forehead and onto his cheeks.

  “Done,” he said finally. He sat heavily on the nearest chair. “That’s it for me, though. I’m worn out.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Astrid asked Costin.

  Costin fixed her with a devious smile. “You and I need to make this look good. The fight must look real. I’m assuming your man here.” He nodded to Vinnie. “Can make one of his tunnels and get you out?”

  Vinnie nodded happily.

  “Good,” Costin said. “Start in the basement of this establishment. If you tunnel about a quarter-mile to the northwest, you’ll come out in the woods near a spring. From there you can catch the trail back to the toll road.”

  “I know the place,” Moxy chimed in.

  “I can find it,” Vinnie assured them.

  “Wait for me there. I’ll send someone to pack your camp and bring it to you,” Costin added.

  “My horse will find me,” Mortsen bragged.

  “You know the camp?” Vinnie asked in shocked tones.

  Costin smirked and gave Vinnie a wink. “I have eyes in the woods, yes.” He turned to Astrid. “Now, for the regrettable part.”

  “You’re trying to restrain the pleasure on your face,” Astrid said as she stood. “Don’t pretend to regret it.”

  The rest walked away from the table. Vinnie turned quickly and asked the barkeep, “Which way to the basement?” The proprietor pointed to a door behind the bar. “Let’s go, Dregs. I don’t want to be here for this. I might not be able to play along.”

  Astrid positioned herself between Costin and the door. “Let me get ready,” she said. Her eyes turned black as she pulled magical energy from the Well. “Maybe we come out fighting. If you want—”

  Costin moved without warning. His eyes changed to black marbles as he hit her with a touchless strike that sent her crashing through one of the shuttered windows.

  “My tavern!” she heard the barkeep lament.

  Astrid barely had time to tuck her head before her shoulder blades slammed into the wood. She flew into the street in a cloud of splinters and chunks of split wood and rolled across the cobblestones.

  The crowd forgot about its mounting anger and scattered for safety. Costin used his telekinetic energy to propel himself through the window and landed in front of her.

  “Asshole!” Astrid bellowed. She meant it.

  When he winked at her and flashed her the tiniest, fleeting smile, she almost burst out laughing.

  You want to play, do you, she thought. She telegraphed her first strike when the rope dart whooshed off her shoulder. Even so, Costin barely had time to duck.

  She was certain he let her land a side-kick to his cheek. She pulled it at the last instant just to show him she wasn’t too angry. She wasn’t trying to take his head off although she was sorely tempted.

  To her great respect, Costin followed with a good, honest left cross that made her see stars. That, she hadn’t expected.

  “You brought this upon us!” Costin roared. “Give that thing what it wants!”

  “Never!” Astrid growled.

  Just before she had another opportunity to appreciate Costin’s boxing skills, the ground rumbled.

  A single, massive arm wrapped around Astrid’s waist. Vinnie scooped her up like a house cat, then jumped back down into the hole he’d created.

  She rubbed the side of her face where Costin punched her, and the skin crackled with blue sparks as the Well removed the swelling.

  “That goat fucker,” Vinnie growled. “He didn’t have to hit you that hard.”

  Astrid gave Vinnie a quick hug and slapped him on the back. “It’s all right, big guy,” she said. “That was a friendly fight. But let’s go before you run out of juice.”

  Vinnie kept the ground open just enough for everyone to follow close behind. They nearly tripped over each other as they ran. The whole party popped up into the forest again.

  “Your aim was good this time,” Astrid remarked as Vinnie waved his hands over the tunnel opening that closed with a rumble.

  “I beg your pardon?” Vinnie replied haughtily. “My sense of direction is impeccable.”

  Astrid gave an exaggerated shrug, “Well, not always...”

  Vinnie harrumphed and stomped off into the woods to study plant life. “Mi sta rompendo le palle,” he muttered under his breath in that strange New Ancient language he often used.

  Tarkon drew both pistols and slipped off into the woods to patrol with Moxy.

  “Astrid,” Gormer called, hitching his pants. He put his fists to his hips and glared at her. “Giving him a hard time is my
job, and I’ll thank you for leaving it to me. Do we have an understanding?”

  For the first time in days, Astrid gave a laugh that didn’t come from stress or gallows humor.

  “Sorry, boss,” Astrid replied. “I’d like to post up on the watch to make sure nobody’s coming after us. Only if that’s OK with you…”

  “Excellent idea,” Gormer replied. “Proceed.”

  He played the character just a few seconds too long. He jumped to the task when Astrid arched her eyebrows and looked at him down her nose.

  “Tracker?” Astrid said, looking around. She found him clinging to the trunk of an oak. “Let’s get you scouting, too. Let us know who’s approaching. We’re waiting on Costin’s people to bring us our horses, so…”

  “I’ll try not to kill anyone I don’t have to,” Tracker said.

  Tracker launched himself between trees by springing from branches.

  “They’re like squirrels,” Mortsen commented as he sidled up to Astrid.

  She locked eyes with the bulky man for a long while. He was very much like Gormer was not too long ago, but Mortsen was much more practiced at maintaining his veneer of ruthless self-interest.

  There was something about him she didn’t trust. It wasn’t that she thought he would break his word. He appeared honorable in that regard. She just felt he held something back out of fear.

  She also had the feeling whatever he was hiding was a great burden to him. He seemed to test the water by letting bits of his life slip out. She concluded he hadn’t yet figured out if he could trust her.

  We’re in the same boat, then. Astrid thought.

  “Are you with us, Mortsen?” She decided on a direct approach. Before he could answer, she added, “And don’t toss me your goat shit. I need an honest answer. I’m not sure exactly what you’re about, and I really don’t have time to solve that particular riddle.”

  Jiri stood nearby, but he wisely found something to do and took his squire out of earshot.

  “I don’t know where I’m from,” Mortsen began. His voice changed, remaining deep but far less gruff. “I’ve forgotten important things, only to remember bits and pieces in flashes. I know I’m very old, but I don’t know where I was born. So much of my life is a blank…” he trailed off and looked into the woods. “Sometimes it feels like I was here when the New Ancients fell. But that makes me doubt my sanity.” Astrid looked into the trees with him to make it easier. He spoke more freely with no eyes on him. “I know things I shouldn’t know and do things I can’t explain.”

  “That can’t be easy,” Astrid said, then realized her mistake.

  His head snapped toward her, and his eyes narrowed. “I…” he paused, and his eyelid twitched. “Appreciate your sympathy.” He clearly fought for control. “I mean that, but I won’t admit that again.”

  “I guess we’re having a moment, then” Astrid teased to lighten the mood.

  Mortsen chortled, then replied, “I guess we are. You should know who you’re partnered with in the battle to stop this thing.”

  “Glad to have you with us,” Astrid said. She thought better of clapping him on the shoulder as his face reverted to its more familiar hard aspect.

  “It just feels like I’ve been here before,” Mortsen growled. “Nobody will like what’s coming.”

  As he stared off into the forest, Boy came wandering through the trees. He pranced to Mortsen when he made a clicking sound with his cheek. The horse whinnied with pleasure as Mortsen scratched his neck, face, and ears. He even drooled a bit, to their great amusement.

  A few minutes later, Tracker emerged from the shadows of a fir tree. “Three people coming with your horses and... other things,” the pixie said.

  A few minutes later, three of Costin’s soldiers appeared leading all their horses.

  Gormer approached them and looked over the horses and the gear. “You sure everything’s here?” he asked sharply.

  A woman in the lead of the procession dismounted. “We got everything,” she said in a monotone voice. “We’re not thieves; we don’t want to take what isn’t ours.”

  Astrid noticed the other two, both men, wore scratched and dented chest plates. As she neared, she realized they had tried to remove the embossed estate crests with a hammer. Only the woman wore her crest intact.

  “Thank you for bringing our things,” Astrid said with a small, formal bow.

  “I didn’t do it for you,” she replied as she handed Astrid the reins. “Most of us agree with Costin. You are the best bet for stopping this threat.”

  It was a long, silent ride back to the Fortress.

  Chapter Twelve

  Updates and Waiting

  “We spent nearly two days just to find out we’re looking for some weird guy with a limp and a bad diet,” Astrid complained. “Potbelly? Strange eyes? I’ve been to the quarter. That could describe hundreds of drunks down there.”

  Vinnie led her through the workshop and up a flight of steep wooden stairs to his private office. The space was a reclaimed hayloft and still smelled of it.

  “You put the two best people on the job,” Vinnie said.

  Astrid scoffed. “Gormer and Mortsen.” She shook her head. “How many more times do you think our plans will pivot around morally-questionable characters?”

  “As many times as it takes, I suppose,” Vinnie answered.

  The scientist mage walked to the back wall where a strange contraption projected beams of light through clear disks of various shapes. Before he flicked the switch turning the device off, Astrid caught sight of blurry images—a horse, a toy soldier, and a small house carved from a small block of wood.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “It’s a special experiment I’m working on,” Vinnie replied. “I’ll tell you more if it works. I’m trying not to raise my hopes too high in case it fails.”

  Astrid cocked her head. “It sounds important, but it’s not like you to have that kind of doubt.”

  “Yes. It isn’t like me. This is a special case for someone equally special.”

  “I understand,” Astrid replied. “If anyone can make it work, it’s you.”

  She waved Vinnie off when he offered her a cup of beet wine.

  “I am getting used to that stuff though,” she said. “Burns my throat, but I’m beginning to understand the charm.” She regarded him with a pointed expression. “Plus, it’s a little early, isn’t it?”

  Vinnie shrugged and gulped his wine.

  Astrid sat down heavily in front of his desk. “This looks like a New Ancient piece,” she mentioned, after getting a look at the straight lines of fake wood panels set between the once-mirrored but now-pitted metal legs.

  “Good eye,” Vinnie said as he sat in a strange-looking chair. The seat was hinged so he could lean so far back it looked as if he would tip right over. “So is the chair. I found both items in a storeroom off the assembly area.”

  “You mean where the gallows used to be?”

  “Yes,” Vinnie replied. “The legs and frame of this table are made from light, hollow, rectangular steel and coated with something the new ancients used to call ‘Chrome.’ It made metal very shiny. I’ve seen shinier examples than this in the depths of ruined cities.”

  “You’ve been to the wastelands?” Astrid inquired with an arched eyebrow.

  “Quite a few times, yes, on my journey from Apennine Peninsula.”

  Astrid shook her head. “I’m not familiar.”

  “My home,” Vinnie replied, to some distant place over her shoulder. “It’s far to the southwest of here. It’s a piece of land that extends deep into the Great Blue Inland Sea.” He chuckled and came back to her. “It’s shaped like a boot.”

  “You’ve had quite a life,” Astrid declared. “I must hear more about your explorations when we have time.”

  “I’ve made it a point to explore this place, as well. There are still hidden areas in the Fortress. But crawling through the recesses of this place won’t help in
our current task.”

  “Your students are brilliant, by the way,” Astrid praised.

  Vinnie lit up like a summer’s day. “They truly are. I am so proud of them. We just had our morning lesson.”

  “Speaking of lessons, is Cole still training with Hanif?”

  “Yes. The boy seems much less angry, but he wears his armor everywhere now. He says he wants to lose weight. The armor is a form of exercise for him, so he says. I think he just loves it because he made it himself. But I want to know what is wrong with being heavy?” Vinnie slapped his broad hands on his massive belly.

  “To each their own,” Astrid said diplomatically. “Being heavy certainly works for you.”

  Vinnie took a healthy pull of his beet wine and set down his cup. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and asked, “But to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my dearest friend?”

  “I could say I wanted your latest report, but that wouldn’t be entirely true.”

  Vinnie left his side of the desk and pulled up a chair to sit closer to Astrid. “You’ve seemed troubled, lately.”

  “I am, Vinnie. I have doubt.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything,” Astrid confessed. “Everything but the Well, and even that belief is under strain.”

  “This happens, sometimes,” Vinnie replied with an easy smile. He reached out, took Astrid’s hand and held it on her knee. “You’ve come to the right place. There is a reason why we all found each other.”

  “Some mystical reason?” Astrid replied in sudden, bitter tones. “That’s what I’m having trouble believing anymore.”

  “I understand. But it need not be mystical or magical.” Vinnie took a deep breath and let it out as he began. “I was forced to leave my home for asking too many questions. I too examine the nature of magic and the state of the world. I challenged the established order, and the Elders of my tradition banished me. Every one of us, even Gormer, came together because in our own ways we are seeking something more. We want the truth.

  “When you ask too many questions, this world simply does not make sense. The New Ancients fell and left us with little more than the stuff of legend. It has always felt to me as if the world we live in now was built from misunderstandings and half-truths. We use magic, but we don’t understand it completely. Magical technology, all the different forms of magic—the story of the Matriarch and Patriarch, the stories of your Prophets of Ezekiel—everything I have learned so far tells me we are missing some crucial piece of the puzzle.”