The Damned: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Feisty Druid Book 6)

by Candy Crum

  Elysia smiled. "I couldn't have said it better myself. Apparently, I didn't say it better at all." She laughed, and Celine and Corrine followed suit. "I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. That's why I'm making this exception for you. You’ll still train with the other students, but I also want you doing this. But let this be known: if you fall behind in your combat training, we will end these extra classes, and you’ll train just like the other kids. Is that understood?"

  Corrine seemed to be quite a bit more excited now, understanding more of what was happening around her. She nodded her head with a smile. "I understand. I promise I won't let you down."

  Elysia smiled, resting her hand on the side of the girl's face. "I know you won't."

  ***

  Bast and Cleo had been staying with the druids for several days, and in that time, they had learned quite a lot. They were voracious fighters, just like the men at home. Where they had come from, the soldiers trained day in and day out. The women had only recently joined their ranks, but they were equally as ruthless, once given the chance.

  The twins had been investigating the druid’s defenses, and had ideas of their own for reinforcing them. After all, three to six-inch-long thorns were terrifying, but if someone was skilled enough, or determined enough, a battle axe or longsword could defeat it.

  "I can feel the earth beneath us. There’s plenty of stone to build a great wall," Cleo said.

  Bast nodded as she stared up to the top of the barrier that separated the druids of the Dark Forest from the rest of the forest. "The dark druids have found their way through this barrier too many times, it seems. Alexander will never keep them out indefinitely if they don't do something else."

  "The thing is, if we convince them to do the stone wall, it’ll do exactly what they want it to: it will keep out any nature magic users. And if it's erected on the other side of this wall of thorns, this one will still keep out any physical magic users who managed to break through the stone. If we make it several feet thick, a mix of stone and compacted earth, their barrier will be nearly thirty feet thick. No one would be able to pass through without their knowledge."

  Bast exhaled, shaking her head. "Thirty feet. That seems excessive, but if this war doesn't end, they’ll need it. But it would block them inside. We would have to teach them physical magic."

  "Not a chance," Ryel said as he approached from behind.

  Cleo turned. "Are you saying you would turn down a stronger barrier simply because you don't want to learn physical magic?"

  He smiled. "You didn't even know the type of magic you use was classified as physical until you came here. You haven't seen the destruction of physical magic; the Chieftain will never agree to it."

  Bast looked toward the wall. "Seems that times are changing around here. From what I heard, outsiders haven't been allowed in for decades, yet here we are. The army from the city north of Arcadia was sheltered here. Arcadians are still here. Even a dark druid child is here. The Chieftain is becoming more diverse as the opportunity for peace continues to blossom. I think you might be surprised what he’d agree to."

  Nodding, Ryel said, "We are masters of our magic. It’s just who we are. We aren’t opposed to having stronger walls, but the physical magic bit would all fall on Arryn. Perhaps we could just talk with the Chieftain, but I think that you’d be much better off talking to Arryn and having her approach him."

  Bast smiled and shrugged. “If you say so.” She looked around. “I would be honored to build it with her. From what we hear, she’s quickly becoming a master of both branches.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Amelia flipped a chair around backward, straddling it as she sat across the jail cell. The prisoner was still healing from the battle she and Bast had taken part in with the rearick brothers, Ren and Sven. The young woman had paralyzed the man during the fight with one of her powerful punches.

  After bringing him back to Arcadia, Amelia was able to find someone that had learned enough from Arryn and Cathillian to heal the prisoner of his affliction, but they had only healed the bones. The nerve damage was only partially resolved, as the magic user wasn't nearly as skilled in nature magic as they were in combat.

  The man was able to walk and take care of himself, but not without the aid of crutches. His legs were too weak to stand without them.

  Amelia smiled, though it was meant to be more threatening than anything. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. Where are you from? What's your favorite color? Why the fuck are you stealing from my city and the people I employ? You know, the basics."

  The man gave a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. "I ain't telling you shit. You’re cute, but you ain't that cute."

  Sighing, Amelia said, "Look… This is going to go one of two ways. Either you’re going to give me the information that I want peacefully, or I’m going to bring someone in here who is far worse than you, and I'm going to let them have fun."

  His eyes widened a bit, but then he laughed. "I highly doubt that. You're not the type."

  A wicked smile spread across her lips. "You're right, I'm not." Her eyes flashed black as she slowly lifted her hand in a graceful motion, her elbow coming to rest on the back of the chair. She snapped a finger, and the cuffs of his pants lit on fire. "Well, I'm not the type to let someone else do my dirty work, anyway."

  The man screamed as he reached down, struggling fruitlessly to put out the flames.

  With a wave of Amelia’s hand, the fire went away, and she relaxed into position again. "Now, shall we play nicely? Because I have a city to protect, and I'm not going to let scum like you threaten us. We have been through too much, and my ability to give a damn is broken. I'll play the bad guy if it means protecting the people who depend on me."

  "You’re fucking crazy, lady!" he shouted, inspecting his ankle. It was red, but there weren't any blisters. Amelia had been careful to keep the fire from burning too hot, and his freakout had kept it from burning into his leg.

  Rolling her eyes, she said, "Oh, please do keep telling me all the wonderful things about myself. It doesn't make me want to set you on fire again at all."

  She gave him a stern look, and he swallowed hard, sitting back and nodding.

  "I'm going to ask you one more time." She sighed as she stared into his cold eyes. "What is going on in the Valley?"

  Rolling his eyes, he threw his hands in the air before letting them fall back into his lap. "Well, seeing as how I'm never getting out of here, and none of those bandits are going to risk coming into the city to get to me, I suppose I'm safe enough. The guy’s name you want is Locke. He's an asshole, and I quite despise him, but he pays well."

  "Who is Locke, and what does he have to do with this?" she asked.

  "Locke used to be an Arcadian guard. When Adrien fell, a lot of people left the city; that included a lot of the Arcadian guards. They fled south, hoping like hell not to run into Hannah. They kept going until they were on the south side of the Heights. They have an encampment there. They started out doing dirty work for the nobles, taking care of nuisances, acting as hired guns for government assholes who wanted towns kept in line. Now they're in business for themselves."

  She really didn't like the sound of that.

  "Is Arcadia at risk of them attacking?"

  He laughed. "Did you hear a thing I just said? They don't want anything to do with Arcadia. That's why everybody working for Locke stays far away from the city. We try to stay off your radar as much as possible. Obviously, that didn't go as planned."

  "Yes, well, that's pretty hard to do when you are attacking caravans every day, and taking the product I've been ordering."

  He shrugged. "I suppose you're right, but still… The city has nothing to worry about from Locke. Just the rearick."

  "So, when you say Locke is in business for himself, what do you mean?"

  "They have their own engineers, and they’re stealing the crystals to make magitech weapons. They’re stockpiling them. They sell them to other assholes who
want to take advantage of the little guy, to those same government assholes that used to hire them, or they just use them to take what they want. Last I heard, Locke wanted to start building his own city."

  Amelia shook her head. "No doubt built off the backs of those who can't help themselves."

  The man smiled. "Naturally."

  Hearing all of this made her angry. It made her angry because she wanted to do something about it, but she couldn't. She couldn't leave the city, and she couldn't send guards, either. If facing a large group of well-trained soldiers, her guards would never stand a chance.

  The Arcadian Guard was feared in the Valley—even outside of it, when Adrien had been around. They were ruthless, extremely skilled fighters, and everyone knew not to mess with them.

  With the Cella governor’s help, that was slowly becoming the case again. He was taking her undertrained guards and putting them through rigorous combat training until they were capable of practicing on their own to better their skills. The first group that had returned to her was infinitely stronger than when they had left.

  Their feared name would once again be theirs to have, only they wouldn't be ruthless. Not unless their enemy truly was an enemy.

  There had to be a way to stop them, but she didn't know how. The only thing that she could think of was the twins. They had crossed that very water the bandits’ encampment rested on now. She wondered just how close they had gotten, and exactly how that would have gone if the bandits had attacked them.

  She almost laughed at the thought. Those girls were powerful, and she knew from personal experience that Bast literally could've ripped them apart.

  She decided that sending a letter might be best. She still had Ash, and she was getting better and better at communicating with him. He was a very smart boy, and she knew she might be able to get the raven to fly a letter to the Dark Forest.

  Maybe after everything was all said and done, and the war in the Dark Forest was over, Arryn would be willing to fight on behalf of Arcadia again.

  ***

  Alaric and Jerick had been traveling with their people for days. They could no longer stay in the southern part of the Dark Forest, and traveling farther into the Arcadian Valley was impossible. The only option they had was to head west, toward the Terresian plains.

  Even returning to the Terres Forest was out of the question while Alexander was still alive. Alexander would be anticipating that move, and they would be dissolved entirely.

  The only option was to move west in hopes of finding people they could recruit. They would need all the help they could get.

  As the moon rose high over the fields, they had finished making camp for the night. Alaric decided to keep the first watch, only a three-hour shift, and Jerick would take the next.

  Off in the distance, he could hear cattle calling out to one another as they grazed. There were several lying on the ground not far from them, but far enough that the animals felt comfortable. Alaric was well aware of any creature’s discontent at their presence.

  Unlike the druids of the Dark Forest, animals were not innately attracted to them; they feared the dark druids, and wanted to stay far away.

  Alaric’s pointed ears twitched as the sound of a broken stick echoed. His whitish grey-green eyes narrowed as he looked around, his senses picking up the presence of several people approaching.

  Keeping low, Alaric went to his brother’s tent and kicked his foot. Without saying a word, Jerick sat up, his eyes focusing on his brother.

  "We have company," Alaric warned, his voice low.

  Jerick quickly got out of the tent, following his brother just outside of the camp. They saw something glowing approaching—several somethings. As that something drew closer, the brothers quickly realized there were a dozen or so men carrying magitech weapons.

  "How exactly do we get out of this one?" Jerick asked.

  Alaric smiled. "By proving we’re the biggest threat."

  Without hesitation, Alaric began to walk toward their targets. He felt for their energy and realized the weapons were their only talent; they had no magical control. At least, they didn't seem to. It was possible they thought they were walking up on travelers who had no access to magic.

  It was no matter, though. He had no worries.

  "Cooperate, and you'll be just fine," came a voice from the path ahead of him. "Piss me off, and I'll make sure you regret it."

  Alaric laughed, his brother doing the same. "We'll see about that."

  Jerick’s arm lifted. Vines burst through the ground and wrapped around their weapons. He flung his hand aside, sending each of the weapons flying several feet away to land on the ground.

  Alaric stepped forward, his eyes flashing as his hand extended outward. Each of the men immediately began to start feeling fatigued, and pain radiated through their bodies as Alaric used his death touch. He knew he wouldn't be able to use it for long, as it would drain him entirely, but he had enough in him to make them feel like they were dying. It would be enough to establish him as the dominant figure.

  "I think it's you who shouldn't piss me off," Alaric said, his voice cold.

  He released his hold on them, and they fell to the ground. He was thankful for the darkness, as it hid the fatigue he knew would be showing on his face. Each of them breathed heavily as they doubled over on the ground, unable to do anything except be grateful they were still alive.

  "Introductions are usually customary upon meeting," Alaric said. "I’m Alaric, and this is my brother Jerick. We would like to know who the hell you are, and why you thought trying to overpower us was a good idea. Clearly, that didn't work out for you."

  With a flick of his wrists, Jerick bound each of their hands and feet. Even when they recovered, they would be unable to run. "I would answer him if I were you."

  "We wanted to see if you had any magitech on you," one of them said breathlessly. "We came from south of the Heights. We never run into people while coming through, and thought this was a lucky break."

  Alaric laughed. "For me, this is very lucky."

  The men all looked at him with obvious confusion. The moonlight casting directly down on the field illuminated their faces.

  "You see, I am fighting a war that I'm having a hard time winning. I've been fighting the same battle for decades. I think it's time that things are turned in my favor. How would you like to join me? You seem rather stupid, but that can be fixed with training—proper training, that is."

  The men struggled against their bonds, and the same one spoke again. "We can't join you. We already work for someone, and he would destroy us for betraying him."

  Alaric's eyes narrowed as a dark smile grew. If there was another in control of them, that might mean there were even more men he could recruit. The more, the merrier. He would only need to be taken to them to establish himself as the dominant figure.

  He looked to the magitech weapons and then back to them. "You said you were coming for us, hoping we had magitech weapons? Does he have you do this often?"

  "Trust me, buddy. You don't want to go messing with Locke. He's not someone to fuck with. He has an arsenal of magitech weapons, every kind you could possibly think of, and more are being built over time. If you go in there, he'll kill you. And I don't mean that lightly. I mean you will be captured and then killed as slowly as humanly possible. It's the same thing he'll do to us if we betray him."

  Alaric shrugged. "What if you didn't betray him? What if you simply took us to have a meeting with him? Surely, that couldn't be out of the question, right?"

  The leader looked to his men before cautiously looking back to Alaric. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

  Sighing, Jerick said. "It boils down to preservation, boys. You can take us to Locke, and risk dying by his hand—though a meeting isn't all that terrible, so you probably wouldn't—or you can be guaranteed death here. And I promise, Alaric’s death touch is quite painful, and I use other methods in which a painful death is certain, but excruciatingly slow. Your
friend Locke and I have that in common. Do we understand each other?"

  The man sighed, grinding his teeth as he shook his head. "Fine. We’ll take you, but I can't promise you'll come back."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christopher tossed and turned, sweat beading on his forehead as he felt the rocks digging into his side and back, pain radiating through his entire body. His stomach felt like someone had reached inside, grabbed a handful of his intestines, and had begun to squeeze and twist.

  This was a new poison. It was different than the rest; it caused intense pain, while he was forced to endure it with a fully conscious mind. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to heave every drop of it from himself, but he couldn't. The poison took so long to work that it was long gone out of his stomach, and was already coursing through his body.

  "How does that feel?" Aeris asked. "Does it feel painful? Is it agonizing? It certainly looks that way, but I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you scream."

  Christopher didn't want to give him what he wanted. He didn't want to scream or cry out. He wanted to die. He prayed to whoever might be listening that they end his life, end his suffering. He prayed for Arryn’s safety, but after enduring this pain for so many years, he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't stay alive for even one more day. He could feel himself giving up.

  Aeris, angry that Christopher wouldn't give in, lashed out. He kicked him hard in the back, earning the scream that he had so desired from his victim. "There it is," Aeris said, a dark joyfulness in his voice.

  "Please! Please stop!" Christopher cried out as he jerked away from another kick. In doing so, Aeris’ boot grazed his side, tearing open the skin and exposing him even more.

  "Christopher." He heard an angelic voice in the darkness, but couldn't find it. He searched, his tear-filled eyes frantically looking around for it.