Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  He was a monster. Not in the literal sense. But in the metaphorical. There was a wild look in his eyes. The look of a screaming madman. Clearly he'd taken some sort of philtre to boost his strength and stamina so that he could run for days on end. Either that or he was utterly consumed by his rage. There was also blood on his uniform – not his evidently as he ran easily and there were no apparent tears in his clothes. It was blood that he'd spilled. Baen stared at the cold iron chain looped around his waist which linked back to a collar around the neck of one of the prisoners. A young woman who looked utterly terrified and exhausted. A woman with a ring of blood around her neck.

  “Lady save us.” Baen bent his head and offered a brief prayer when he saw the man. He wasn't a devout man but sometimes even he felt the need for a short prayer. Once the raider took off again, racing into the long grass and dragging his prisoner along behind him, Baen gave the command and released the first of his spells.

  The man got twenty yards – perhaps thirty yards beyond the forest before he was unexpectedly brought down. Grabbed from below and simply slammed down into the hard ground so hard that he hit like a hammer. Baen could see the look of shock on his face as he went down – for a second. And then he felt the thump through his feet. Bones would have broken. After that the man was just gone. There was nothing but a nice empty stretch of long grass waving in the breeze and hanging down as it was too tall to stand straight and a terrified, exhausted woman standing there in shock with a cold iron collar around her neck, trying to work out what had happened.

  “Balls!” Dariya exclaimed. “Did you see that?!”

  Baen ignored her outburst as he concentrated on the flashes of men and prisoners he saw running through the trees, pursued by the Fae on giant wolves. The wolves were howling louder now, and there were more of them. Arrows were flying in all directions. The Fae were trying to make the raiders worry about what was behind them and not pay attention to what lay ahead. They were driving them into his trap.

  More men came rushing out in a terrified sprint seeing their salvation lying just beyond the tree line. And one by one they were grabbed when they ventured far enough into the grasslands. Some yelled in terror. But their screams were drowned out by the howls of the wolves, and the men behind them didn't notice. They were too busy running and looking behind them.

  Ten – perhaps twenty – men were taken down hard before any of the raiders noticed what was happening ahead of them and started calling out. And even then they were slow to work out the danger. Half a dozen more went down before the desperate charge stopped at the edge of the trees.

  After that the raiders took shelter at the tree line and stared out over the field in front of them, trying to work out what was waiting for them in the long grass. The prisoners looked equally mystified. But as tired and confused as they surely were, it was only the raiders who the long grasses took down. Their prisoners had been left untouched. They stood there in the field shocked and terrified and still chained to their captors but Baen thought that was to be expected.

  “What did you do?” Dariya whispered at him.

  “I turned the grass into their enemy,” he told her. “No one who has taken the Duke's coin is safe from its embrace. None of their wards could protect them from it because they were all designed to repel teeth and claws, arrows and bullets. Things that cut and tear, not grab.”

  It was then that the raiders understood that they were trapped – even if they didn't quite understand how. There were wolves and wardens behind them, and a field of grassy death in front of them. Worst of all for them, they were exposed.

  Baen watched as a couple more went down, arrows in their heads. Their wards were good, but once they were standing still and giving their pursuers a target, not good enough. All magic had its limits after all.

  But they were still fighters, and they quickly took shelter on the Grenland side of the trees, and grabbed their weapons. They'd realised that it was time to fight. It was their next mistake as Baen had prepared for that as well.

  Baen gestured with his hand and immediately released the next of his traps, and the result was everything he had hoped for. The wolves howled and charged, directed to attack by the wardens. The raiders raised their weapons to their chins, took aim and fired. And instantly their rifles exploded in their faces.

  A dozen more men went down in bloody heaps before the others realised what was happening and stared suspiciously at their weapons. Some still tried firing them – grabbing their pistols and holding them at what they thought was a safe distance from their faces – but the result was much the same. Even at arms’ length the explosions caused the raiders terrible injuries and they fell down. Not many got back up and those that did were covered with blood – their own blood. Hands were missing, faces had turned blood red and some fell down again.

  “What was that?” Dariya asked.

  “Blocked barrels,” he told her. And by the gods was he glad he'd come across that spell long ago! It was one way to stop an army. And in this case it had ended a battle.

  Suddenly the remaining raiders were terrified. He could see it in their faces. They had once been in their hundreds, protected from every threat their master thought they might face, by some of the most powerful wards he could find. Now there were less than thirty. They were trapped between the wolves and the wardens on one side and the open grasslands on the other. Their weapons were useless. And at any moment they expected an arrow to find their heart or teeth to rip out their throats. Their battle was over and they knew it.

  A few more tried running again. Hurling their weapons to one side and abandoning their comrades and prisoners both, they sprinted out as fast as they could over the grass. But they got no further than the rest before the grass reached up and brought them crashing down. And after that there was some muffled screaming and that was it.

  They weren't dead. Well, most of them weren’t. Baen supposed he could have had the grass crush them into paste. But all magic had its limits. For him, he had had to spread his enchantment across a large area. As a result the strength of his magic had been dissipated. If he had enchanted fewer acres of grassland then the grass that he had enchanted would likely have killed those caught by it. But he couldn't have risked the soldiers running around the traps. Everything had come down to how accurately Nyri and her wardens could drive the fleeing raiders to this exact spot. And they had done a brilliant job. The raiders had no hope.

  Baen could see the terror in the men's faces. The absolute fear that told them they did not want to go out into the grasslands. Or face the fury of the Fae. And that they were trapped. Exhausted from running for days. With their hope of safety stolen from them. And he knew what came next. Even before they did.

  “We surrender!” One of the raiders suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs. And then he hurled his rifle to one side to prove it.

  But he wasn't quite as finished as he pretended to be. He was a liar. Because even as he tossed his rifle aside he pulled a long-bladed knife from his belt and prepared to take the fight back to the Fae. Unfortunately for him, he shouldn't have done that. Baen released another of his wards and instantly a branch of the tree he was sheltering behind swung down from above and swatted him.

  The man screamed in pain and shock even as he flew through the air trailing blood, before he smashed down into the grasslands and then vanished into its green embrace. He didn't get back up. He probably wouldn't.

  Then a shot rang out, and another man clutched at his arm as a long-bladed knife went flying. Baen turned hurriedly to see Dariya standing there, sliding another bullet into her rifle and pushing it home with the bolt. She was obviously – assuming she had deliberately intended to shoot the man in his arm and it wasn't a lucky break – a crack shot. She was also the only one who had a working rifle – as long as she didn't move too closely to the wards. And for some reason the raiders wards hadn't protected them against her bullet. He wasn't sure why.

  Seeing that, the rest of the ra
iders threw out their weapons and screamed for mercy. They knew they had no choice. Not when even the trees they were sheltering behind could kill them.

  “Nyri.” Baen spoke to her on the wind, knowing that from here on this was her responsibility. He had done what he'd intended to. He had stopped the soldiers. And he was glad when she appeared not far from them and started issuing orders. Ordering the last twenty or so men to drop not just their weapons but their clothes and the wards they were wearing. And of course to release the prisoners.

  The battle was over. It wasn't won – there was no winning in war – but it had ended and Duke Barnly had got nothing for his efforts. In fact, he had lost the best part of two or three hundred men at arms. Not that he would care since they were mercenaries and he probably hadn't paid them. But he would still be upset. He had sent an army into the Hallows, and none of his men would return. He would undoubtedly be worried by that in the days and weeks ahead.

  “It's done? We won?” Dariya asked hesitantly.

  “It's done,” he agreed.

  “You have to be the most powerful wizard I've ever heard of!”

  “I'm not a wizard,” he told her. Though he understood why she was amazed. It did look impressive. “There are no wizards. I just have the gift of enchantment. It took me long days to set up this battlefield. I laid out hundreds of traps, all designed specifically to overcome or go around their wards. And then Nyri and her wardens had to drive them exactly to this point. A few hundred yards to either side and they would have missed them all.”

  That was the heart of the plan. He also thought she should have been told of the plan before it was put into effect. But the Protector had insisted he not tell her – he wasn't sure why – and he had done as she'd wanted. He was already in enough trouble with Nyri. He didn't need any more.

  In time the Fae moved on to the other raiders, freeing them one by one from their grassy restraints, disarming and stripping them, and leading them back into the trees. All of them, Baen noticed, were badly injured. Many held their arms and their chests. Others limped. The grass had not been gentle on them, and some of them had badly broken bones. That pleased him. After what they had done, they should suffer.

  There was something else he noticed about them, tremors. All of the raiders shook. It wasn't fear. Undoubtedly they were afraid but this wasn't because of that. It wasn't from days of running either. They had to be exhausted. In fact they had to be near death. But this was something else. And then he spotted the vials on their belts. Little vials with at most traces of red liquid in them. It was then that he understood. Philtres. The raiders had been using some sort of enchanted potion that had given them enhanced speed and strength. He also figured that to keep their prisoners running with them they must have fed the potions to them as well, which was why they too were shaking a little. But now it was wearing off. The cost of that he guessed, would be bad.

  Baen put aside his questions for the moment, and moved to free the Fae prisoners from the cold iron collars they wore. The Fae could not go near it, and while Dariya could, he possessed an enchantment of unlocking that would make it quicker than searching the raiders for keys. Baen walked over to where the nearest of them were still standing, trembling like their former captors, and pointed his staff at the collars. A single word from him and the collars fell away. Baen was pleased to see that the enchantment worked so well. Seeing the relief of the Fae prisoners and hearing their murmured thanks before they hurried back to their people and the safety of their forest though was better still.

  He worried though about the markings around their necks that had been caused by the cold iron. That was more than a skin abrasion. Iron was poison to them. The injuries showed that their blood had turned black. They were going to need healing and a lot of time to recover from what had been done to them. And yet they were the lucky ones. Many of their people had not survived the attack.

  How could anyone have done this to them? Even the Duke? Of course Baen knew that the Duke was an evil man. Everyone did. He was the worst of the Featherstones and all of them were bad. And yet it was not until he saw that that he truly understood just how evil the Duke was.

  Suddenly Baen saw a face that he knew and he forget everything else as he ran over to her.

  “Caris!”

  A few heartbeats later he had freed her from the collar and wrapped her in a great hug with all the strength he had. Old memories started surging to the fore. He remembered when he was sixteen and had travelled to this strange land; called by the magic of the land and yet still feeling lost and alone. And he remembered meeting her for the first time. So long ago he had met her and she had welcomed him into her family. He had accepted gladly, and soon his feelings of being lost and lonely had been overtaken by love and laughter. Thinking about that now it occurred to him that he wasn't so much a man caught between two realms as a man caught between two families. One the family of his birth, the other the family of his soul. But both families held a central place in his heart.

  “Bless the Lady!” He hugged her even tighter. Baen was simply so happy to see her. Caris was like an aunt to him. Or maybe a second mother. And when he'd heard that she'd been one of the ones that they couldn't find, it had filled his heart with terror. He hadn't known if she was alive or dead. If she was with the raiders being dragged through the Hallows. Or if her body lay somewhere along their trail. He'd had to work hard to keep from thinking about it. Seeing her now though – the relief was indescribable. Baen held her tight.

  “You've grown,” she told him as she tousled his hair. “And why is this so short?”

  “It's easier. I don't have to comb it.’

  Baen though couldn’t afford to spend more time with her just then. He still had other people to free. Even so, he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. And so, arm in arm with her he continued his work. But finally there was some joy in his heart. An end to his fear.

  “There's pain in your soul.”

  “But not so much now that we're together again.” Still he told her what she wanted to know as he continued his work, first freeing the last of the Fae, and then releasing the last of the brigands to Nyri's charge. He didn't know what she and the others would do to them, and frankly he didn't care. It was justice and far better than whatever their master had had planned for his friends.

  Finally, when there was nothing left to do he brought Caris back with him to his camp so he could treat her wounds and share a hot drink. It seemed others had the same idea and followed him back to his camp. Baen paid them scant attention as he told her of all that had passed in the last decade and she did the same.

  For a time the years seemed to fall away and it was as if no time had passed. Not a dozen years. Not this most recent horror. Things were once again as they should be.

  Baen should have returned long ago. He knew it and freely admitted it to Caris. But when he had first returned to his family there had been trouble. They had initially been angered at his having left and stayed away for so long. And without leaving any explanation! It had caused them terrible fear as they imagined the worst must have happened to him. And then when he'd told them where he'd been it had caused more upset as they didn't believe him. They were clearly hurt by what they viewed as their son’s lies. And as for his mother –!

  She had been beside herself with worry and grief during the time he had been gone. She'd even begun to think he was dead. And on his return she had clung to him like a limpet; determined that he would never leave her again. It was a terrible thing to realise but he had only understood on his return quite how much his family loved him and how thoughtless he had been. He knew he couldn’t leave again, any time soon.

  So, he'd stayed and the days and weeks had slowly became months and years. Life had intruded and commitments had been laid on him. Somehow the time to return had slipped away. But now he knew he had made a mistake. Thankfully it was one he could at least start to repair now, and as he talked with Caris, it was almost as if the years had never
passed.

  It was many hours later before Baen became aware of much around him. By then most of the former prisoners were enjoying mugs of tea and having their wounds tended to, while his supplies of food and medicines were rapidly being used up. The Fae were also busy examining his staff and his rings. Baen didn’t mind. He had no secrets from them and in fact he was quite proud of what he'd achieved.

  The only thing that bothered him was that he knew this time had to end. They would soon return to their home and he to his. Truthfully it also bothered him that Nyri was still upset with him and his spying. But Caris had said she would speak to her about that. What she could do, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. Not a lot mattered just then save that she and the others were safe.

  Then Caris asked a question he hadn't expected, and he burst into laughter.

  Baen, what is that contraption over there?” she asked, pointing at the wheeler.

  “That Dear One,” he told her, grinning, “is the most wondrous technological invention ever created. It's like riding a thunderstorm! A horse wilder and faster than any ever born! It tore up the roads and carried me a hundred and fifty or more leagues in a day!”