Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  Seeing by the light of his sword, they darted past old, crumbling roads that lead through tunnels and various buried parts of old cities. Each time they exited one tunnel, they'd breathe fresh air, happy to be out on green hills, only to return to a new set of tunnels shortly after.

  The shouting had died down, and they had just emerged onto a plateau that led to a series of lakes and rivers past the valley ahead, when Donnon pointed and swore.

  Rhona didn’t need to ask why, as she too saw the plumes of smoke rising from amongst a clump of trees in the distance.

  “I take it you know what’s burning over there?” Alastar said.

  “If the terror in my gut is correct, aye.” Donnon rested the ax on his shoulder and turned, looking for any sign of danger. “That’s where my village is.”

  Alastar didn’t say another word, but simply nodded and pressed on. Rhona’s legs were killing her, and her stomach ached from hunger, but she kept moving. His little girl, Kia… If she was hurt in any way, Donnon would most assuredly lose it. She understood how important this was for him, but wondered what dangers might await them below.

  14

  Donnon cared for nothing more at that moment than his little girl and her safety. Leaving her with just two of his friends while she had the black marks of the plague on her had been risky. Stupid even. He had put everything he had into his decision to go find a healer, and he had found one.

  But now this? To return with Alastar and his healing magic, only to find his village in flames was more than he could bear.

  He was vaguely aware of the other two racing along with him, of plowing their way down through the valley and then following it up through dew-covered bushes to the point that led up and toward his village. Part of him knew it was gone, everything would be gone, but he couldn’t give up hope yet.

  They passed the river he’d often taken Kia to when teaching her to swim, and the rock he would always remember where he had once slipped, almost lost control, and then dropped his daughter. He had never taken her to the river again after that, afraid he might lose her, too, after the illness that had taken her mother from them.

  Smoke rose in thin tendrils past the trees ahead, not much now. That told him the fire was at its end, and that it would have claimed its prize long before he arrived.

  The worst part was that, had he been there, he would have been able to control the flames, to put a stop to this. Had any of the fire mages been there, his daughter would still be alive. They had abandoned him in his time of need, and he’d have words with them yet.

  But for now, he needed to block the negativity out, keep focused, and be certain of what had happened here. Hope burned in his gut, as slight as that ball of hope was, yearning for the off-chance that his daughter was still alive.

  Then he was running through trees, and the first burnt house lay in ashes before him. Past it were more, and then he was among it all, collapsing to his knees, staring in horror.

  “Kia…” It was barely a whisper. It was all gone. They… they were all gone. “Kia!” Donnon pushed himself up, refusing to believe it, and spun around, looking for any other way they might have survived, any sign of who might have done this.

  “Donnon,” Rhona said, arriving at the edge of the clearing, her hand clasped to her heart, the other at her mouth. “Oh, my… I’m so sorry.”

  “KIA!” he shouted again, refusing to accept that she could be gone. Not his little girl.

  “It’s too late,” Alastar said, looking at the carnage. He walked over and put a hand on Donnon’s shoulder.

  Donnon’s first instinct was to swat the hand aside, to punch the man for even thinking Kia could be dead, but instead he bit his lip and let the sorrow ball up in anger. Whoever had done this would pay, whoever was responsible would—

  “Father…?” a voice said, and he turned, warmth spreading throughout his body as that hope, the hope that had nearly been quenched, exploded.

  There she was, still covered in the black marks, but beautiful as ever. He was kneeling in front of her in an instant, wrapping her in his arms, caressing her hair, and weeping.

  “My baby, my amazing Kia.” He pulled back, looking for her protectors.

  But she shook her head, her hazel eyes full of sorrow.

  “They’re gone,” he said in realization.

  “They tried to fight,” Kia said. “They took me to the caves and then led a distraction, but… never made it back.”

  He knew how hard that must have been for her, so he pulled her back in for a hug. No more questions, not now.

  When she coughed, he remembered the two he had brought, and quickly stood, gesturing to Alastar.

  “This is her, my Kia,” he said, pride welling up inside as Alastar’s eyes went wide at the sight of her. “My little survivor.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alastar said, assessing her disease. “Would you be okay with me trying something?”

  She stared up at him, her nine-year-old trust uncertain in this condition, what with all she had been through. Finally, she nodded. Donnon couldn’t imagine leaving her side in a moment like this, so he held her tight as Alastar stepped up and placed his hand on her forehead. The paladin’s eyes closed, and his lips moved in prayer, and soon a bright light moved down his arm and swept over her until her entire body glowed golden.

  He opened his eyes, and they were gold as well, and he said, “By the Order of Rodrick and the blessing of the holy saint, be healed, child.”

  The light engulfed her even as she stepped back and whimpered in terror, pulling away from him and even her own father’s grip. Her arms flailed as she tried to fight off the light, screaming, “No, not you, no! No!”

  Donnon couldn’t understand what was happening, so at first, he turned to Alastar, ax raised, but he looked as dumbfounded as Donnon felt.

  Instead, he dropped the ax and ran to his daughter, holding her by the shoulders as he begged her to tell him what was wrong.

  “Him!” she shouted, pointing at Alastar even as the light faded, taking the black marks with it. “He’s one of them! He’s one of them!”

  Donnon was still lost, but Rhona was at his side a moment later, one arm on his shoulder, the other on his daughter’s.

  “I think I understand,” Rhona said, clearly trying to convey calmness. “His prayer, the Order of Rodrick…”

  Kia flinched at the name.

  “You called?” a new voice said, and they all turned to see a dozen paladins. At their head was a tall knight with long, golden hair shining in the sun almost as brightly as his white and gold armor. His eyes took them in with malice at first, until they came to rest on Rhona and Alastar. He frowned in confusion, then smiled. “It seems you’ve lost your armor, brother.”

  “Taland…” Alastar stood, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Did you do this?”

  “Our war is with these witches and warlocks,” Taland said. “Or did you forget what they did to our castle?” His eyes moved back to Rhona, and there was something else there. Shame? Spite?

  Alastar shook his head. “The sorcerers who attacked the castle had nothing to do with these people.”

  “They all use magic, they are all evil. What else is there to know?”

  “You don’t understand, brothers.” Alastar motioned to Kia. “You would wage war on a child over this?”

  “Her?” Taland laughed, and the others snickered. “Her most of all. Who do you think burned the village down while we sought shelter?”

  Donnon turned to his daughter, confused. She had never shown her magic to others, but now he saw it there in her eyes—confidence, a burning hatred, and power. She wasn’t hiding anymore.

  He had hoped she wouldn’t be burdened with this power, at times a curse, at others a blessing.

  At the moment, it was clearly bound to be the latter. He pulled out his flint and prepared to light it, when an armored kick hit him in the ribs, knocking the flint out of his hands. He lunged to reach for it, when another pa
ladin stomped on his hand, and the cracking of bones sent a piercing pain up Donnon’s arm.

  “Stop it!” Kia screamed, running for them, but Rhona held her back.

  “Your war is not with them!” Rhona shouted.

  Taland stepped up to her, furious, and raised his hand to strike, but it never came. Instead, he had been distracted by something beyond her.

  Now, Donnon and the others turned to look too. All around them, Remnant were emerging through the trees. Hundreds of them.

  “The hell is this sorcery?” Taland asked, lowering his hand to draw his sword. “You… you all control them somehow? You called them here?”

  “You poor, ignorant arse.” Donnon cradled his injured hand and scooted over to his daughter. “I hope they don’t kill you, so that I’ll have the chance one day.”

  Taland didn’t seem to like that remark much, because he brought the hilt of his sword down on Donnon’s head with a strike that sent him spinning down into darkness.

  15

  Alastar stared in shock as Donnon crumbled to the ground, unconscious, and his daughter screamed and lunged for him. The remnant were everywhere, and now there was this to deal with.

  If this had been anyone other than Taland, he wouldn’t have worried, but Taland had been one of the few paladins who had often bested him both in sparring and blessings.

  As the other paladins all called down blessings upon themselves, and their bodies and swords glowed, Alastar tried to lift his sword and found the spell to heal Kia had taken too much from him.

  He staggered over to Rhona’s side, but before he could make it, Taland had given an order and three of the paladins had taken hold of him and were dragging him away, while the others formed a defensive retreat formation.

  “There’s too many,” Taland said, and then pointed at Kia. “Kill them first, including the sister.”

  “No!” Alastar shouted, trying to fight, trying to call down a blessing, but he couldn’t. He was simply too drained.

  The paladins moved for them, but Rhona was over by the other two, grabbing them, and she cast a look back at Alastar as she mouthed, “I’ll find you,” and then all three had become shadow, darting away.

  He leaned back, letting the paladins take him as he sighed in relief.

  A crack in the sky startled him, and he lifted his head to see that, to his dismay, three shadowy forms were falling from the sky. They fell toward a glowing, purple mist that circled beneath, and then the mist had them.

  For a moment, Alastar was certain he saw a face in that mist—the chief sorcerer who he had seen at the fortress and then again in the pursuit. Irdin, they’d called him.

  The bastard had them, and there was nothing Alastar could do about it. He thrashed and shouted, but the paladins had him and, as they were strengthened by the blessings, he was like a child struggling against several grown men.

  “They have her!” he shouted. “The sorcerers, that’s what they wanted. Her!”

  “We’ll have words with the sorcerers,” Taland assured him, marching past as his men met the first of the remnant with a clash of swords against whatever crude axes and hammers they had. “But your sister and the other two? We don’t give a damn.”

  Warfare sounded nearby, and Alastar was tossed to the ground with a thud as his captors turned to slay nearby remnant. He had never felt so powerless as at that moment, and hoped it hadn’t all been for nothing. Had he healed that little girl only to watch her die at the hands of the sorcerers?

  These were his brothers in arms, more than family at one time, now tossing him about like a mere prisoner. How quickly one could turn from trusted friend to enemy. He lay there, watching blood fly from those creatures that were clearly once human but now survived in a feral state of perpetual anger and bloodlust. Maybe they, too, were somehow simply misunderstood.

  Had anyone ever captured one and sat down to try and converse with it? Or even better, tried to heal one?

  Not that any of that much mattered. Either the remnant would somehow overpower the paladins, the sorcerers would join up with them for the attack, or they would escape and either kill him for his betrayal or make an example out of him in some other way.

  Those weren’t scenarios he was prepared to let happen.

  An opening appeared, and he stood, making ready to run for it, only to find an armored, glowing arm clothesline him and send him flying back to the ground with a hard thump on his back.

  He gasped for air and stared up at another face he recognized, Sir Bale, shaking his head and shouting something about staying down.

  Forget that.

  Again, he pushed himself up, this time finding a bit of prayer led to a response. His skin tingled and filled with energy, and then he was up, pushing past Bale and going for his sword where it lay on the ground.

  Two remnant charged him, and he caught the first one with an uppercut, but felt the other’s club against his side with a pain that shook his insides. He lifted his fist to strike, when a strange sensation came over him. A bright light flashed before his eyes, blinding him, and he guessed the same had happened to the remnant, because they all screamed at once.

  He was swinging wildly, only able to see faint outlines around him. Something swooshed past his face, then a form appeared and had him. More hands grabbed him, and they lifted him off of the ground, carrying him away from that place.

  “We’ve got you,” Bale said. “Don’t worry, you’re safe… for now.”

  Alastar stopped struggling long enough to ask, “And the others? The sorcerers?”

  “After they got what they came for, they were gone.”

  It took a moment to process this. Had the sorcerers really been after his sister? He couldn’t figure out why, except for her unique magic. Magic the likes of which he had never heard of anyone else using before.

  All of this had started because he had to be the hero back in that farm house. He wished he had a magic that he could use to go back and change that moment, although he had to admit that, if she had the power in her laying dormant, it likely would have come out eventually anyway.

  Soon, his captors let his feet fall to the ground, and he was being half-dragged as he ran along with them, and then gradually his sight began to slowly recover enough to where he could make out colors.

  This might mean the powers of their blessings were weakening, giving him hope once more.

  “The sorcerers who attacked,” he said as they stumbled on, “we have to warn the High Paladin.”

  “Sir Gildon knows who his enemies are,” Bale’s voice came from his side. “As of right now, you happen to be one of them. So, don’t be looking our way for help.”

  Alastar gritted his teeth, processing the information that Sir Gildon had survived the attack on the castle, but had it out for him. After a few more steps and as his vision cleared further, he added, “We all saw it. They were performing magic unlike anything we’ve experienced before. They’re not the clansmen, I promise you.”

  “And I promise you no one gives a rat’s arse,” another voice said, one he couldn’t quite place. “Sir Gildon has ordered that you serve as an example for what happens when paladins betray their kind in favor of the dark arts.”

  So that’s how it was. He wasn’t just being dragged off randomly, but to be crucified for the others to see, so that none would make his mistake. His broken body would be a lesson for all.

  If that was the case, he was determined to find a way out of this before that could happen. It also meant there was no way these so-called brothers would help him rescue Rhona and the others.

  Somehow, he would have to break free, and he would have to do it on his own.

  16

  Rhona had felt like her soul was being pulled out in every direction, and the next thing she knew she, Donnon, and Kia were falling from the sky. They had been engulfed by purple clouds of the sorcerer, though she didn’t truly see him until she had hit the ground.

  When he had approached, all she could
manage was a croak of, “Stay back.”

  The man who had last spoken to her when she was still back with Estair, the same who had attacked the Castle of the Order of Rodrick, stood before her now. His eyes began to fade from full black to a sharp blue, and the magic around them faded.

  He smiled, and she was aware of the sounds of battle not far off. The paladins and the remnant, she imagined.

  “Since you already had your chance to join us,” Master Irdin said, “I’m sorry to say this round won’t be so hospitable.” He nodded to his right, where the man with blond hair and white eyes appeared. “Instead, we’ll simply have to take over that brain of yours.”

  The thought of this freak of a mystic entering her mind made her stomach churn.

  She turned, looking for an escape route, and then realized there wasn’t much room for physical escape when the attack is coming on a mental plane. She saw Donnon there on the ground nearby, pulling himself over to his daughter.

  If Kia was hurt, or dead, these sorcerers would feel no end to the wrath of Rhona.

  She sighed a breath of relief when she saw Kia reach out and take her father’s hand. Donnon helped his daughter to sit, and then cradled her in his arms, and she wrapped him in hers.

  The sight sent a warmth through Rhona that pushed aside all pain and doubt, and she turned to the mystic and smiled.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said, and then felt her eyes cloud over as she saw his turn white.

  She knew she couldn’t fight the evil mystic’s magic with simply the power of her mind, as he was too skilled and powerful for that. So instead, she presented him with a new type of challenge. When he attempted to enter her mind, she was ready for him—she let the shadow in, knowing that all he would find was darkness.

  His presence tingled, letting her know he was in there, and she pushed in on him at every angle. If he couldn’t get a read on her, he couldn’t do any damage.

  Next, she focused on the darkness, letting herself fall into it, and then embracing it so that it was everything.