LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  Within a decade, sorcery and knowledge brought about by the Enlightenment began to permeate every aspect of life on Koldun. The sorcerers discovered a way to sustain themselves without food, to move from place to place in a blink of an eye via teleportation, and even to do battle using spells. Before long, the centuries-old feudal system of hereditary nobility began to seem outdated to those who could change the fabric of reality with a few carefully chosen sentences. Notions of fairness and progress, of basic human rights and merit-based societal standing, spread like wildfire, catching the nobles completely off-guard.

  By the time the king understood the threat posed by the new sorcerer class, it was too late. The peasants, realizing that their lords were no longer as all-powerful as they once were, grew more demanding, and uprisings erupted all over Koldun as commoners sought to better their quality of life. Most of the sorcerers—though not all—supported the peasants, and those of the lower class who lacked the aptitude for magic banded behind them, seeking the sorcerers’ protection against the nobles who still had the king’s army on their side.

  The end result was a revolution—a bloody civil conflict lasting six years. As it progressed, each side grew more brutal and vengeful, and the atrocities perpetuated by the peasants against their former masters ended up being as horrifying as what the barbarians did in the Age of Darkness. It wasn’t until almost every noble family was slaughtered and the king lost his head that the revolution came to an end, leaving the survivors to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

  It was no wonder that the sorcerers feared the peasants, Gala thought, staring at the Tower. After all, sorcerers were now the new ruling class.

  After several hours of flying, they finally approached their destination. Gala recognized the field below from one of the Life Captures she’d consumed earlier; it was even more beautiful from above. The spring work in her vision must’ve been completed, and tall stalks of wheat populated the landscape.

  Off to the side was a cluster of buildings that Gala guessed to be the village. Unlike the rich, elaborate-looking structures in Turingrad, the houses here were much smaller. Simpler, Gala thought. She remembered reading that many peasant homes were made of clay, and it appeared to be the case here as well.

  There was a little clearing between two of the bigger houses, and that was where they landed.

  As soon as their chaise touched the ground, the door to one of these houses opened, and two older women came out.

  Gala stared at them, intrigued. She’d read about the physical changes that occur in humans throughout their lives, and she wondered about these women’s ages. To her, they appeared to be similar to each other, with their grey hair and brown eyes, although Gala found one of them to be more pleasant-looking than the other.

  Seeing Blaise, they smiled widely and rushed toward the chaise.

  “Blaise, my child, how are you?” the prettier one of the two exclaimed.

  “And who is this beautiful girl with you?” the other woman jumped in.

  Before Blaise had a chance to answer and Gala could fully register the fact that she had just been called ‘beautiful,’ the woman who spoke first turned toward Gala and announced, “I am Maya. Who might you be, my child?”

  “And I am Esther,” said the other one without giving Gala a chance to reply. Her face was creased with a smile that Gala liked very much. In general, despite the woman’s more homely appearance, Gala decided that something about her was quite appealing. Both women had a warmth to them that Gala found pleasant.

  “Maya, Esther,” Blaise said, getting off the chaise, “let me introduce Gala to you.”

  “Gala? What a pretty name,” said Esther, stepping forward and giving Gala a hug. Maya followed her example, and Gala grinned, pleased to find herself the center of attention. Their hugs were nice, but nothing like what she felt when she touched Blaise.

  “Blaise, wasn’t Gala your grandmother’s name as well?” asked Maya.

  Blaise nodded and gave Gala a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. A lovely coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Well, come inside, children,” Esther said. “I’ve just made some delicious stew—”

  “I’m not so sure about delicious, but it’s definitely stew,” Maya said with a wicked grin, and Gala realized that she was teasing the other woman.

  Blaise shook his head. “I’d love to, but I can’t,” he told Esther gently. “Unfortunately, I have to go. However, if you don’t mind, Gala will be staying with you for a few days.”

  The women looked taken aback, but Maya recovered quickly. “Of course, we don’t mind,” she said. “Anything for you and your lovely young friend.”

  Esther nodded eagerly. “Yes, anything for you, Blaise. How do you two know each other?” she asked, visibly curious.

  “It’s a long story,” Blaise said, his tone brooking no further questions on this topic. “Maya, would you mind giving Gala a tour of the village while Esther and I catch up for a minute?”

  Esther frowned. “Are you sure you won’t stay? We’d love to have you for a few days. You need some sun, and you should eat something. I bet you lived on magic since our last visit,” she said disapprovingly.

  “Blaise has important business to attend to,” Gala said, coming to Blaise’s rescue. She could see that he looked tense, and she sensed that he didn’t want to be here, away from the comforting precision of the code he’d come to depend on so much. From the brief glimpse of his mind she’d gotten in that Life Capture—and from what she’d learned about his brother—she knew that her creator was still hurting, that he wasn’t ready to face the outside world yet.

  “Well, I don’t like it one bit,” Esther announced, pursing her lips. “Promise us you’ll come back soon.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I will not leave Gala by herself for long, you can be sure of that,” Blaise said, and Gala felt the warmth in his gaze as he looked upon her.

  Gala smiled and took a step toward Blaise. Standing up on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for another kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and Gala eagerly savored the sensation. To her relief, this time he didn’t step away. Instead, he pulled her deeper into his embrace and kissed her back fiercely, sending shivers of heat down her spine.

  When he released her, her heart was beating faster, and she could see the pleased looks on Maya and Esther’s faces. She’d succeeded in reinforcing the impression the two women must’ve already had—that she and Blaise were lovers. It was something that Gala hoped would be a reality at some point, and in the meantime, it provided an explanation for her relationship with Blaise. Not that anyone would ever guess that Gala was Blaise’s creation, she thought wryly. From what she’d learned thus far, nobody could imagine that a person could’ve originated the way Gala did.

  Now that it was time for her to part from Blaise, Gala experienced doubt for the first time. All of a sudden, seeing the world was not nearly as appealing, since it meant she would have to be apart from Blaise for the next few days. He hadn’t even left yet, and she already missed him—and wanted more of those kisses. From everything she’d read, she knew people rarely developed strong feelings for each other so quickly, but there were always exceptions. It was also possible that the usual rules didn’t apply to her, since she wasn’t human.

  “Bye, Gala,” Blaise said, giving her a smile, and she smiled back, shaking off the brief moment of weakness. The village was beckoning her. This was her chance to experience life here, among the common people. She had a strong suspicion that if she backed out now, she would not be able to talk Blaise into doing this again.

  “Bye, Blaise,” she said, determined to be strong about this. Turning, she started walking toward the beautiful field that she could see nearby. Maya followed her, waving a goodbye to Blaise as well.

  As Gala approached the field, her pace picked up until she was running as hard as she could. She could feel the wind in her hair and the warmth of the sun on her face, and she tur
ned her face up, laughing from sheer joy.

  She was living, and she loved every moment of it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Augusta

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE GOING to be all right?” Barson asked, looking down at Augusta with concern. He had just walked her to her quarters, and they were standing in front of her office.

  “Of course.” Augusta smiled up at her lover. “I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t deny that she still felt a little shaky after the battle, but the best cure for that was getting right back to her everyday routine—and that meant resuming work on her ongoing projects.

  “In that case, I’ll let you get to your spells,” Barson said, leaning down to give her a kiss.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Augusta spotted a young sorceress approaching them and pausing deferentially a few feet away.

  “Um, excuse me, my lady . . .” The woman appeared uncomfortable, her hands nervously twisting together.

  Barson smirked, clearly amused by the girl’s reverent manner, and Augusta turned her head toward him, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “What is it?” she asked the girl, annoyed to be interrupted.

  “Master Ganir sent me to look for you,” the sorceress quickly explained. “He is requesting your presence in his office.”

  Augusta frowned, unhappy at being summoned like an acolyte. Had Ganir already heard about the battle and her involvement in it? If so, that was fast, even for him.

  “Maybe he wants to explain how three hundred peasants became three thousand,” Barson murmured, bending his head so that the girl couldn’t hear him.

  Startled, Augusta looked up at him, meeting his coolly mocking gaze. Was Barson implying that Ganir had misinformed them on purpose?

  Tucking that thought away for further analysis, she told her lover, “I will see you later,” and walked decisively down the hall, forcing the young woman to jump out of her way.

  It was best to get this unpleasantness over with quickly.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Barson

  AS SOON AS AUGUSTA WAS out of sight, Barson left the sorcerers’ quarters and headed toward the Guard barracks in the west wing of the Tower. He and Augusta had ridden ahead of his soldiers, and he had less than an hour to do what needed to get done.

  Walking in, he saw the familiar hallway with the row of rooms where he and his men lived when they were on duty. His own quarters were nearly as lavish as those of the sorcerers, but even his lowest-ranked soldiers had comfortable accommodations. It was something he’d made sure of when he’d taken over as Captain of the Guard.

  Normally, after a hard trip like this one, he would’ve gone straight to his room to take a long bath, but there was no time to waste. He had to confront the traitor—and he had to do it now, while he could still catch him unaware.

  Stopping in front of Siur’s room, he paused to listen to the sounds coming from within. It seemed that his trusted lieutenant was engaged in a bit of bed play.

  All the better, Barson thought, a thin smile appearing on his lips. There was nothing better than catching your enemy with his pants down—literally.

  Without further ado, he pushed open the door and entered Siur’s bedroom.

  As he had suspected, there were two naked bodies on the bed. From the moans and the flashes of red hair he could see under Siur’s straining bulk, the woman had to be one of the local whores that frequently visited the guards. The two of them were so occupied with each other, they didn’t even react to Barson’s entry.

  Starting to get annoyed, Barson banged his gauntleted fist against the wall. Siur and his bedmate jumped, cursing, and Barson watched with cruel amusement as the woman scrambled out of bed, pulling a sheet around her plump naked body.

  “Captain!” Siur gasped, hopping out of bed and swiftly pulling on his britches. “I didn’t see you there . . .” The wide-eyed look of shock on his face was almost comical.

  “Surprised to see me?” Barson asked in a silky tone, watching as the whore ran out of the room. “Or just surprised to see me alive?”

  “What? No, Captain! I mean, yes—” Siur was clearly caught off-guard. His eyes were shifting from side to side, reminding Barson of a trapped animal.

  “Why were you unable to join this mission?” Barson demanded, not giving the man a chance to regain his composure. “Why did you stay behind?”

  “Well, I—” Siur clearly wasn’t expecting to be questioned, and Barson could see him frantically trying to come up with a plausible answer. His hesitation was damning.

  “Tell me everything,” Barson ordered, looking at the man he’d once regarded as a brother. “Why did you do this?”

  Siur blinked, backing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “Don’t lie to me. At least show me that much respect.”

  “Captain, Barson, I—” The soldier kept moving backward, and Barson saw what he was after the very second the man’s hand closed around his sword.

  Barson unsheathed his own sword. “Tell me the truth,” he said coldly, “and you will die quickly and painlessly.” He was glad the traitor was showing his true colors; up until that moment, he hadn’t been completely sure of the man’s guilt.

  With an enraged cry, Siur attacked. His momentum carried him across the room, his sword swinging.

  Barson met his fierce attack, parrying every blow and watching carefully for an opening to disarm his opponent. Normally, Siur would’ve already been dead, but Barson didn’t want to kill him yet. He needed information, and the traitor was the only one who could provide it.

  Siur fought like a berserker. Faced with the prospect of interrogation, the man was apparently trying to go for a quick, glorious death—something that Barson had no intention of allowing. They fought for what seemed like forever. If Barson hadn’t been so tired from his earlier ordeal, this would’ve been easier. As it was, he had to restrain himself from killing Siur every couple of minutes, while simultaneously preventing the soldier’s deadly blows from reaching his body.

  His moment finally came when Siur made a violent thrust at Barson’s shoulder. With one flick of his sword, Barson grazed his opponent’s left side, drawing the first blood. Siur jumped back with a pained hiss, then attacked Barson with even more desperation. The soldier knew he would now grow weaker with every minute that passed, and Barson found it more difficult to restrain himself from dealing the traitor a killing blow.

  “You can’t make me talk, no matter what you do,” Siur panted, executing a triple feint attack. Barson easily defended himself; he’d personally taught this maneuver to Siur, and the man had never particularly excelled at it. That Siur used it now was a sign that he was no longer thinking straight.

  Silently taking advantage of this opening, Barson slashed the man’s right shoulder, slicing through his naked flesh with ease. It was fortunate the soldier wasn’t wearing armor; otherwise, Barson’s task would’ve been even more difficult. Siur stumbled, letting out a pained cry, but pressed on, his eyes glittering with rage and desperation.

  A trickle of sweat ran down Barson’s back, intensifying his longing for a bath. Deciding to bring the fight to its inevitable conclusion, he pretended to favor his right side, leaving his left exposed for a brief moment. Siur immediately took the bait, going for a killing blow to the heart.

  At the last moment, Barson twisted his body, letting the man’s sharp sword scrape the side of his armor, cutting through it and leaving a shallow scratch on his skin. At the same time, Barson’s gauntleted fist landed on Siur’s right arm with massive force, causing the traitor’s sword to fly across the room.

  “Now we talk,” Barson muttered, punching Siur in the face and knocking him out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Augusta

  THE WIZENED OLD MAN WAS working behind his desk when Augusta entered his lavish study. His workspace was nearly the size of her entire quarters in the Tower. Being the head of the Council certainly had its privileges.

  “Augusta.�
� He raised his head, regarding her with a pale blue gaze. Although Ganir’s face was wrinkled and weathered, his white hair was still thick, flowing down to his narrow shoulders in a style that had been popular seven decades ago.

  “Master Ganir,” she responded, slightly bowing her head. Despite her dislike of him, she couldn’t help feeling a certain grudging respect for the Council Leader. Ganir was among the oldest and most powerful sorcerers in existence, as well as the inventor of the Life Capture Sphere.

  “You need not be so formal with me, child,” he said, surprising her with his warm tone.

  “As you wish, Ganir,” Augusta said warily. Why was he being kind to her? This was very much unlike him. She had always gotten the impression that the old sorcerer didn’t care for her. Blaise had once let slip that Ganir thought they didn’t suit each other—an obvious insult to Augusta, since the old man had treated Blaise and his brother with an almost fatherly regard.

  In response to her unspoken question, Ganir leaned back in his chair, regarding her with an inscrutable gaze. “I have a delicate matter to discuss with you,” he said, lightly drumming his fingers on his desk.

  Augusta raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. She wouldn’t have thought her interference with the rebels was a particularly delicate matter, and she didn’t know why he didn’t just bring up her actions at the next Council meeting. Of course, it was possible he wanted something from her—a possibility that made her uneasy.