Magic and Misrule (Mishap's Heroes Book 1)

by KM Merritt

  There, ahead of her, the fog curled around a blurred shape. A smaller figure whipped around it, and the sound of wood on flesh rang out.

  Vola paused, and as soon as the smaller figure dodged away, she swung with her shield.

  Lord Arthorel fell like a rock, and the fog dissolved into the morning sunlight.

  Vola turned to check the others and caught the flash of trees looming directly in front of them. “Aw crap, brace yourselves!”

  The ship struck one of the little muddy islands that made up the shore, the bowsprit plowing through the trees ahead.

  The impact made them stagger, and most of the golems plunged over the side into the waist-high water at the edge of the swamp. It wasn’t deep enough to dissolve the clay figures apparently because they lurched to their feet.

  A roar echoed between the trees and the townsfolk of Water’s Edge poured out of the swamp to swarm the golems.

  “Hey,” Sorrel said with a laugh. “Reinforcements.”

  “You can definitely forget about being paid, now,” Lord Arthorel said from behind them.

  Vola spun in time to catch Arthorel’s kick smack in her chest. She fell backward, down the stairs to the main deck.

  Sorrel leaped forward, staff swinging. Arthorel disappeared into the air.

  “He’s invisible,” Sorrel called into the empty air. “Gods dammit. More illusions.”

  Arthorel flickered back into existence beside Vola.

  She swiped at him, but she didn’t have her feet under her yet and he avoided it easily.

  “You’ve betrayed your people,” Lillie called. Talon stood beside her, bow in hand. “You’ve broken a sacred trust. Are you prepared to face justice, Lord Arthorel?”

  “Who are you to demand justice in my own lands?” He flickered away again.

  Lillie clenched her fists and squealed in frustration. She shot an arc of fire to cover the entire deck, flames bending around the rest of them.

  There was a grunt from beside them, and Arthorel appeared beside the railing. Talon took aim against him, but he rushed the ranger, trailing bits of flame and smoke, and knocked the bow from their hands, sending an arrow zinging uselessly into the water.

  As Talon staggered, Arthorel raised both hands and aimed at Lillie and Talon.

  Vola could charge him, knock him over the side or knock his head clean off. But she’d never do it before he got that spell off.

  She lunged the other direction and slid on her knees in front of Lillie and Talon. She flung Henri’s shield up just as a wash of gray light fell over them.

  The light hit her shield with a clang, and a brilliant flash pushed back Lord Arthorel’s spell, keeping it from touching any of them.

  A breeze touched Vola’s cheek and a chuckle sang in her ear.

  “Thank you, Lady,” she gasped.

  “Never say I’m stingy with my gifts.”

  Vola thrust the shield out, and the gray light rebounded, flashing back against Lord Arthorel.

  He staggered.

  And Sorrel leaped at him from the upper deck, flying toward him feet first. She kicked him across the face. Sorrel landed on one leg, spun around, and kicked him in the groin, sending Lord Arthorel to one knee. Then she planted one foot behind her for balance, took a split second to line up, and her tiny fist shot forward into Lord Arthorel’s chest, which was now the perfect height.

  The blow cracked across the water, and Arthorel fell, slumping against the rough planks of the deck.

  Vola stared, breathing hard. Was this just another trick? An illusion to make them think he was down while really he was escaping around the back?

  She sidled closer.

  “Is he dead?” Lillie called.

  Sorrel shook her head and prodded him with her foot. “Just stunned,” she said. “I kind of wanted him to go to jail.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Lillie said. “We can deliver him to the proper authorities, and they can carry out the law.”

  Shouting caught their attention from over the side of the beached ship. The deck listed, and they all staggered to the railing.

  “The proper authorities might not be on our side right now,” Talon said.

  The harbormaster and his assistant had run the entire way around the edge of the swamp to get to them. They skirted Braydon and the townsfolk, who were mopping up the last of the golems below, and stood below the edge of the ship.

  “What do you think you’re doing? We hang pirates around here, you know.”

  Gruff circled them, hackles up. Talon stepped across to tie up Lord Arthorel.

  “We’re going to need some proof that we’re not just pirates,” Lillie said, biting her lip.

  “A cargo hold full of the illegal slaves he was transporting should do it,” Sorrel said. She grinned at Vola. “You want to do the honors?”

  Henri.

  Vola blew out her breath. “Gladly.”

  Thirty

  Vola slung Henri’s shield over her back again and sprinted for the hatch fastened with big metal bands. She pulled a belaying pin from the rail and used it to wedge open the fastenings. Then, she threw the hatch open and stared at the narrow ladder that descended into the dark.

  She swung her legs over and started down. The shield stuck halfway and Vola shimmied until she could slide down and duck under the low ceiling.

  So much for the mighty hero.

  A couple of carefully placed lamps lit the cramped space. It stretched from one side of the ship to the other, but Vola still had to bend almost double to walk under the beams of the upper deck. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust.

  Bars marched on either side of her, set into the planks in a hasty attempt at a cage. Clearly, this wasn’t normally a slave ship. Frightened eyes stared out at her from behind the bars. Dozens of dirty faces waited, barely breathing.

  What had it been like down here? Had they heard the fighting? Had they sat here wondering what the winner would do to them? Had they felt the impact when the ship ran aground?

  All that and then the first one they saw was Vola in her patched chain mail with swamp mud on her boots.

  The nearest faces to hers were young. Children dressed in plain pinafores and grubby shorts.

  The kids from the orphanage.

  Vola stepped forward to the big lock set into the side of the cage. She drew her sword and brought the hilt down with a clang. Once. Twice. Until the lock broke free and she could swing the door open.

  “It’s all right,” she said as gently as she could. “You’re safe now. Lord Arthorel is captured. You can all go home.”

  They blinked at her, and she got the impression that they would be quick enough to move if she wasn’t standing in the doorway armed to her very large teeth.

  She spun to break the lock from the other side as well and flung the door wide.

  Finally, the prisoners shifted. Just a flutter of movement at first, then they were tumbling, clattering towards the doors, their voices rising as they laughed and called out and greeted each other.

  Townsfolk poured from the cages, sweeping up the orphans in their enthusiasm. A few grubby figures in the back were probably outlaws. The bandits Lord Arthorel had captured before he’d moved on to his own people. They stood back, watching with wary eyes.

  People pressed against her, shoving their way toward the ladder and the sunlight and fresh air above.

  “Henri!” Vola called over the hum. She tried to straighten to see over them but knocked her head on a beam. “Henri!”

  “Vola!”

  She pushed through the freed prisoners, parting them like water as they streamed around her until, finally, she found him.

  At the back. Making sure everyone had gotten out okay.

  She hit him with an awkward clang, her arms going around him, armor and all. She had to duck so far she’d never be able to uncrick her neck, but it was worth it.

  Henri clapped her on the back, letting her hold on to him as long as she wanted before he finally pull
ed her along with him, up the ladder and back into the morning sunshine.

  The rescued prisoners poured out over the deck and down the sides of the ship to the swampy ground. Some helped each other down the ladder, and some just jumped into the arms of their loved ones waiting below.

  Henri walked to the bow and stared over the railing. His hair was damp and tangled, his face dirty and the scar that cut across his cheek and jaw stood out stark white against his grizzled stubble. He looked like the worst sort of mess.

  And he managed to look like the best thing ever at the same time.

  He stared out over the townsfolk milling in the waist-deep water with a little grin on his lips. Astrid moved between them all, checking for injuries.

  The sailors argued on the other side of the ship, and Lillie and Sorrel stood speaking with the harbormaster who had Lord Arthorel tied at his feet.

  Vola handed Henri’s shield to him and opened her mouth to say something, to confess it all. To tell him the academy had been right, and he’d been wrong about her.

  “Well done, knight,” he said quietly.

  Vola winced. “Don’t say that.” Her hands trembled, she forced herself to meet Henri’s wise blue eyes. He gazed at her, and in his gaze, she saw all her failures, from her mistreatment of Lillie to letting him get captured to the way her party had fallen apart around her.

  “I screwed it all up. The moment you were gone, it all fell apart. They didn’t want me to lead them, and I didn’t blame them. I forgot everything you taught me, and my actions got them hurt.”

  “And then?” Henri scanned the celebration below. Everyone was moving back toward the docks now. Everyone except the sailors.

  “What?”

  “That’s not the end of the story.”

  “No, but it could have been.”

  Henri chuckled. “Vola, every failure feels like an end. But it’s only the end if you let it be.” He speared her with a glance. “Clearly you didn’t leave it there. They followed you here.”

  He gestured to the distance where they could see Lillie’s round figure and Sorrel’s short one. Two dark figures ranged alongside them, one tall and slim, one low and sleek.

  “I apologized. They gave me a second chance I didn’t deserve.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “So, you failed first before you succeeded. You’re a fool if you think any success comes without failure. The only way to win for good is to figure out all the ways to lose first.” He turned to face her, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Of course. But what—”

  “I’m your trainer. I decide your fate. You agreed to that when you accepted my mentorship. The academy accepted that when they made me a trainer.”

  He held out his shield to her.

  She shook her head.

  “What does a paladin do, Vola?”

  “I am a light in the dark,” Vola whispered. “I am courage when others have none. I am strength when others are weak. I am their sword when they are weaponless.”

  The oath. Her oath.

  “I don’t believe you’ve broken that,” he said. “And I don’t think you do, either. Take your shield, Vola. I couldn’t ask for anyone better to carry it for me.”

  Vola swallowed and let him settle it on her arm.

  “Am I ready?”

  “There is no magical ready or not ready. There’re only those who keep trying over and over to do the right thing. To do better.”

  He stepped back and away from her and went to climb down the ladder.

  She traced her fingers over the rough edges of the shield. In her mind, she’d always seen herself dressed in gold, riding a white charger, carrying a shining shield perfectly cast and polished.

  But the image bothered her now. That shield was too perfect. Too clean. It had never protected anyone.

  She flattened her hand against the burn mark and the ridges of cuts and gouges. And smiled.

  Vola felt a tug at her waist. She glanced down to see a little girl in a plain pinafore. One of the orphans. The only one left on deck.

  “’Scuse me, that’s my bunny,” she said.

  Vola’s hand went to the stuffed rabbit she’d carried in her belt since the first day.

  “So it is,” she said and pulled it free. She handed it to the little girl, who beamed up at her and then scampered down the ladder to the swamp.

  Vola followed at a more sedate pace.

  Henri and Astrid walked ahead of her, arm in arm through the muck as the other townsfolk made their way back to the docks and the buildings that crowded around the harbor.

  A squirrely man with dirty spectacles and prominent front teeth waited on the edge of the boardwalk, tapping his foot. He opened his mouth when he saw Henri. Then he saw Vola’s shield.

  The council representative turned a shade of crimson that looked better on a swamp blossom.

  “You gave her a shield?” he shrieked. “Do you even know what’s been going on while you were away?”

  “If the council didn’t trust my judgment, they wouldn’t have made me a trainer of knights,” Henri said mildly as he gave Astrid a hand up out of the muck. “But they did. And there’s nothing they can do to gainsay my decision now.”

  “You’ll hear about this when you get back to the academy,” the representative said, spittle flying. “Mark my words.”

  “I’m not going back to the academy,” Henri said.

  “What?” Vola paused in the act of climbing up onto the boardwalk.

  “What?” the representative said.

  “They’ve spent the last few years undermining my protegé. Obviously, they don’t trust her or me. Therefore, I won’t be training anymore knights for them. I’ll be training paladins on my own.”

  “You can’t do that. Paladins must be vetted by the highest authorities. It’s a sacred tradition. Only the right people get to take the oath.”

  The representative waved his hands in the air, tangling them in a net that hung from the nearest building. The net fell and caught the edge of a rake which smacked Henri across the face.

  Henri touched the red mark on his cheek. “You can tell the council I won’t be returning. I’ll be finding a new place of residence.”

  “Mine’s free,” Astrid said.

  “Seems like a good place to start,” he told her.

  The representative scrambled out of the way and disappeared between the buildings.

  Vola raised her hand to the spreading bruise on Henri’s cheekbone. “Want me to get that for you?”

  “Nah,” Henri said, and as she watched, the bruise flared and faded away. Just like when she healed someone.

  “Wait. How did you—”

  “You didn’t think you were the only one with a connection to the gods, did you?” Henri gave her a wink and turned to walk away with Astrid on his arm.

  “Wait. Henri! Did Cleavah send you in the first place? Henri!”

  Henri didn’t answer. Cleavah remained silent as well, though Vola did think the sky seemed smug about something.

  Thirty-One

  Vola surveyed the docks, trying to find her team. Since Henri was abandoning her for Astrid, apparently.

  Over by one of the more official-looking buildings, Lillie leaned in to hear something the harbormaster was telling her, a frown creasing her brow.

  Talon stood at the edge of the water, hands on hips, watching a suspicious trail of bubbles glide around the harbor.

  Vola didn’t see Sorrel at all.

  “Is Henri all right?” Lillie asked, limping up to her.

  “He’s great. Told the council representative to stuff it, and I think he and Astrid are going to try to find someplace quiet.”

  Someone screamed, and Vola whipped around, hand on her hilt.

  Talon still stood at the edge of the water, but now they had the slimy end of a lead rope. Gruff lay at the other end of the dock, glaring at the trail of bubbles that fountained into a scaly head with a filmy cr
est.

  “I was really hoping it had drowned,” Vola said. “I should have known we wouldn’t be so lucky.”

  “Millford survived?” Lillie said, twisting around to see. “Oh, drat.”

  The swamp beast snorted a stream of watery snot that narrowly missed their boots.

  “Why’d you fish it out, Talon?” Vola asked as the ranger dragged the swamp monster toward them.

  “It was eating all the turtles,” Talon said with a glare at the creature. “And the fishermen asked me to. Said it was going to scare the fish away.”

  “Paladin Lightbringer,” a voice said.

  Vola turned to see Becky with her arm around one of the rescued prisoners. Vola recognized her husband Porter, though technically she’d only met his copy.

  “Becky,” Vola said.

  “You saved them all, just like you said you would.”

  Vola couldn’t help noticing that Porter’s gaze kept flickering toward her tusks. She made sure to grin wider.

  “You don’t have to worry about Lord Arthorel stealing any more of your people,” Vola said. “He’s been…permanently deposed.”

  “Do you know what he was going to do to them? Porter just said he was kept in the dark for three weeks, then loaded on a cart to come here. The lord never spoke to them at all.”

  “He was selling them for some extra money,” Lillie said. “That’s all we know for sure.” Vola couldn’t help but notice the way the wizard dropped her gaze. Like she was hiding something.

  “Thank you,” Becky said. “I know you have to help anyone who asks. I know it’s part of your oaths, but we wanted you to have something, anyway. I bashed a couple heads in town to scrape something together. Braydon helped.”

  She handed Vola a bag that jingled, and her hopes rose just a little.

  “Oh my gods, did we just get paid?” Talon muttered.

  Vola kicked them. “Thanks, Becky. That means a lot. Hey, have you seen Sorrel?”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “I told the barkeep here you were owed a round of drinks. So I think you can guess.”

  “I think that means we should hurry before she drinks our share,” Lillie said, hiding a smile.