The Mage From Nowhere, page 5
The sorcerer lifted his arm to block Tarak, underestimating Tarak’s strength and failing to stop his swing. Tarak connected with his opponent’s face, but not without taking punishment. A number of holes were left in his fist and arm as he pulled away. The sorcerer stumbled backward and appeared shocked that Tarak had struck him. It was too dark away from the fire to see much of the sorcerer’s features, but his body language spoke of anger as he moved his hands about and vines reached up to grab Tarak’s boots like they had the ranger’s.
He freed himself with strong kicks and was about to charge the sorcerer again when a wall of thorns rose up from the ground. A scream from the woman turned Tarak around. He cursed himself for not paying more attention as he watched the ranger grab a sword with her bare hands as her only means of keeping it from impaling her body. The man appeared stronger, though, pushing it into her leg just before Tarak got there.
He swung hard at the back of the man’s head. With the running start he’d had, there was little doubt in Tarak’s mind that he had knocked the man unconscious. The fire and wind mage had continued to hold off each other with sorcery, doing little else, until the fire mage noticed Tarak charging him. His fire spell came to an end as he ran the other way.
Tarak was faster. He would catch up soon, but a yell from Michael stopped him. “We need help!”
He turned around to see that the ranger had collapsed to her knees. Shadows danced around her, giving shine to what had to be blood covering her hands, arms, and torso. It was too dark to see just how much there was, but it seemed like a lot.
“Michael…” she uttered fearfully. “Help.”
“Fuck!” he yelled, and found Tarak. “Help me get her to a healer.”
Tarak still had his own bloody wounds, a deep one in his side and less serious ones across his hand and arm, but he would live. This ranger would not if they didn’t seek help. The nature sorcerer had fled with the fire mage, while the last man was slow to get up and stumble off. It was just Tarak left with Michael and Ali. Michael picked her up with a groan.
“Fuck, Ali, it’s so far to reach Leon! Goddammit! Take her feet, Tarak! We have to try.”
Tarak and Michael ran as they tried to hold the ranger between them, but as soon as they left the few flaming leaves behind and traversed into complete darkness, Michael must’ve kicked something. He tripped and fell, and the ranger went down with him.
Tarak crouched down. “Give her to me,” he said.
Michael let go. Tarak held the ranger in his arms like a bride and sprinted south. Michael kept up.
“Who were those people, Aliana?” Michael asked.
“I have no idea,” she uttered, then hissed. “I’m bleeding out here!”
“I thought you said the kingdom’s healer left,” Tarak said.
“There’s another healer who isn’t nearly as strong with the spell,” Michael answered.
“Where is he?”
“In the castle. I’ll lead you. You’re going to make it, Ali.”
“At least try to be convincing,” she groaned.
“Damn, I wish I could fly with you on my back, but I can barely keep myself in the air. It’s not going to work.”
“My bow,” she uttered between groans.
“Forget it,” Michael said. “Think harder. Who could those people have been? They targeted you.”
“I don’t know. I’ve made some enemies with my many arrests.”
“Yeah,” Michael replied, “but a fire mage and a…what the hell was that other mage? I’ve never seen sorcery like that. It was like he had control of the forest.”
Aliana groaned louder. “I don’t know…Michael,” she whispered angrily.
“Never mind, never mind,” Michael said. “Save your strength. I’m going to go ahead and fetch a horse and make sure the gate is open. Just keep going this way, Tarak.”
Tarak had begun to sweat. The woman was not very heavy, but Tarak was nearly sprinting with her in his arms. It was not an easy task, and with so much farther to go. Feeling how much blood was coming off her, he feared he wasn’t going to make it.
What was Michael still doing here?
“Do you wait for a blessing from above?” Tarak grunted between heavy breaths. “Go, sorcerer! Go!”
“I didn’t want to leave you two alone, but all right! All right!” Michael took off with a gust of wind.
The ranger continued to groan as Tarak made his way toward the edge of the forest, but soon she stopped making sounds altogether.
“Ranger, are you with me?” he asked.
There was no response.
He broke through the forest line and into an open field. The first rays of morning glowed over the eastern mountains. Tarak had his first good look at the ranger. Only her face was not covered in blood. She was younger than he had imagined. She looked to be around the same age as the wind sorcerer, probably just a couple years older than Tarak. It seemed like there was much else to notice. She was possibly beautiful, but Tarak’s vision had blurred from his efforts to get her here as fast as he could.
Her eyes opened as she gasped.
“Are you with me?” Tarak repeated.
“I am,” she said faintly.
“We are almost there, and I see Michael coming with the horse.”
Her eyes slowly shut again.
Tarak cursed. With Michael just ahead, Tarak pushed himself to go as fast he could.
He soon met Michael on the horse and hoisted Aliana up onto the animal to sit in front of Michael.
“Come to the castle, Tarak,” Michael said he worked to turn the horse around as fast as he could. “The king is just. He will at least give you a shirt!” He took off with Aliana slumped against his chest.
Tarak staggered a few steps, then fell to the ground and passed out.
CHAPTER SIX
Tarak awoke with a startle. “How long have I been asleep?” he grumbled. He looked up to check the sun, but it was too bright to tell where it was in the sky. “What is this?” he asked as he picked off the woolen blanket on his naked torso. “Who covered me?”
He sat up and glanced around. He appeared to be on the field of a farm though it was dry, the earth cracked. A fence surrounded him. He had not passed out here. He would’ve remembered crossing over a fence.
“Oy there, lad!” called a graying man emerging from the farmhouse. “You alive, yeah?”
“It seems so,” Tarak called back. He got himself up and dusted off the blanket. Noticing the ranger’s now dried blood all over his body, he was sure he did not want to be seen in the light. He covered himself with the blanket again as he tried to figure out what to do.
The farmer called out as he approached, “I couldn’t have you freezing to death. I tried to wake you, but it was impossible. I tried to move you, but you’re heavy as an ox. I managed to drag you off the road and onto my field before my back gave out. Figured you’d be safe from wolves there.” The farmer stopped in front of Tarak. He gave an apprehensive smile with a missing tooth. “I’m Walter.”
Tarak had almost forgotten about the recent events. Of all the questions burning in his mind, two stuck out more than the rest. Was the ranger still alive, and why hadn’t Michael come back for Tarak?
When he rode off in a rush, Michael might not have seen Tarak pass out. What did he tell Tarak? Come to the castle. The king will give him a shirt? Something like that.
Tarak sighed at knowing he’d have to give back the blanket and show his body in the daylight. He’d better offer an explanation to this kind farmer. Walter might’ve protected Tarak from an even worse fate and deserved to know something akin to the truth.
“I was foresting illegally with some friends when we were attacked by bandits.” The men who’d attacked the ranger were not bandits, but it was easier to call them that than delve into the mystery of who they actually were. “One of us was cut. I ran out of the forest with her in my arms as another fetched his horse and took her the rest of the way back into the city.” Tarak took off the blanket. “I passed out from the exertion. Am I to assume correctly that you did not see her blood on me during the night?” He offered the blanket to Walter.
Walter accepted the dirty blanket. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to have any blood stains.
“Well shit the bed almighty! You just about told me everything I need to know about you but your name. I did see the blood on you in the morning light. At first, I thought you had been murdered, but you were breathing fine and I couldn’t find a wound on your body. I was wondering what could’ve happened to you.” Walter peered at Tarak with a squint as if still suspicious.
“Do you still want my name?”
“A name ain’t ever killed someone.” He paused. “But have you?”
“Just trees, good sir.” Tarak tried offering his hand. “I am Tarak, and I do appreciate you keeping animals from picking at me. I am telling you the truth. We were attacked. I would like to repay you, but dirt is richer than I am right now.”
“Not this dirt.” Walter shook Tarak’s hand, albeit a little cautiously.
Tarak had passed out like this before. It was never just from ale. When he hadn’t eaten or slept enough and overexerted himself, this seemed to be the way that he regained his strength. Apparently, it was common among beings like Tarak’s father to require such rest. Tarak still needed to eat, and soon, or he would have to take another nap before the day was done. The problem was that he had no money.
“The truth is,” Walter said, “I’m so desperate for help I’m going to offer you a deal. I’ve got a hot bowl of oats for you, Tarak. You interested? Or do you need to run off and check on your friends?”
Tarak shrugged. “I expect one to come back for me with his horse, and I am hungry and indebted to you. I will stay for the oats. What can I do for you in exchange?”
Walter motioned for Tarak to follow him toward the farmhouse. “You seem like a strong lad. I could use a couple hours of labor.”
“That sounds fair. What do you grow here?” Tarak asked.
“Nothing as of late because of the drought. I’m trying to get some coin together for a water mage.”
Walter showed Tarak to his kitchen, where a large bowl of oatmeal had already been prepared. They ate together as Walter explained how he had been collecting moonstone from the forest, but most of the material was trapped in rock. Tarak had never heard of moonstone before, but hearing of something that didn’t exist where he came from no longer surprised him.
Walter wanted Tarak to break apart the stone with a pickax. Apparently it was difficult for the old farmer, but it wasn’t hard for Tarak. The moonstone didn’t have much color to it as it was mostly clear. It seemed to form in clusters, making it difficult for Tarak to chip away the stone around it once he had broken off the chunks.
After a couple hours, the farmer said he could take it from here and offered Tarak lunch unless he was about to set off to find his friends. Tarak said he was not someone to turn down food and could find his friends after. Walter said Tarak didn’t sound like the best type of friend, but he wasn’t about to judge. These were tough times, and everyone had to eat when they had the chance.
Tarak had hoped Michael would come back by now to find Tarak and tell him what had happened with the ranger, but that didn’t seem like it would be the case. He’d started to fear that the ranger had died, putting Michael in a mood that made him unlikely to go looking for Tarak. Or perhaps the ranger had lived and Michael expected Tarak to show up as soon as he could? He couldn’t quite recall if Michael had seen him pass out.
Aliana had irked Tarak in her steadfast need to follow the laws, but she seemed like a good person at heart. She did not deserve to be killed in the middle of the forest by men she’d never seen before. Surely not. Very few people deserved such a fate.
The farmer had given Tarak his biggest shirt. Considering the state of Walter’s farm, Tarak felt that this gift was too much. He vowed to return and pay him back. Walter said there was no need. He wished he could give Tarak some pants as well. The fact that they had blood on them wasn’t even the worst thing about them. Tarak had torn a hole straight through to his rear end, but the farmer had none that Tarak could fit into.
Tarak ventured into the forest, attempting to retrace his steps so he could fetch his axe and wagon. There was no wind, but he could still feel cold air through the two holes in his pants. It was the one at his left butt cheek that he worried about the most. How was he going to show himself in front of others? Not everyone was as kind as Walter.
He searched for an hour, maybe two. He did end up finding the ranger’s bow, but only because it was easy to locate the patch of burned forest where both he and Aliana had been stabbed, pricked, and battered. There was also a scrap of cloth that must have ripped from the ranger’s clothing.
Tarak wadded it up and used it to plug the hole in the rear end of his pants. It might make him look as poor as he was, but it was better than leaving it open.
Hopefully the ranger was resting in a bed somewhere. Only sorcery could’ve saved her, for her wounds would’ve killed any person from Tarak’s era. He wondered how sorcery worked. When his father had explained it, Caarda had talked about mana as if it had the ability to turn into almost anything. However, he had not mentioned that sorcery could be used to heal or to bless a ring with the ability to signal another ring.
Tarak was certain that bless was not the right word, but he didn’t know the right one. He wondered if even his father might be surprised at the capabilities of mana now. Caarda had always talked about Tarak as if he should be like Caarda—he should have an innate ability to understand and use mana in ways others couldn’t. But now, in this place and time, Tarak felt like a child thrown into a world of adults. He came from a broken family without a penny to his name. He knew nothing, and his home was in a place that didn’t exist anymore. It was like he came from nowhere.
At least he had this bow, this very well-crafted bow. Were all bows of this quality these days? It couldn’t be. She was a constable, after all, and seemed to have close contact with the king. Of course she would have the best.
“This should fetch many silver,” Tarak said. He could spend the whole day searching for his wagon and axe with nothing to show for his effort. Better to consider them gone.
He was ready to leave Newhaven behind. He would take the road south and stop in the nearest town. It certainly wouldn’t be as large as the capital, but he figured he could still sell the bow at a decent price. Even at half the price of what it was worth, it should earn him enough coin for a week of decent meals and nights in a bed. He could find honest work after all, maybe in a small tavern. It was what he wanted. It was the easy way.
But why did it seem impossible to make his legs go that way?
He sighed as he stood a few steps away from the ranger’s pool of blood.
He had a feeling the ranger had lived, and he was partly responsible for that. They might give him a reward. Taking the bow would make him a thief, which was something he wanted to change. His mind was made up for now.
*****
The bridge to the castle had been pulled up. There were no guards stationed outside. Why would there be? There was no way inside. He had come too far to give up, though. He found one man patrolling the walkway at the top of the wall.
“Excuse me!” Tarak called up.
The guard looked down.
“I inquire about a female ranger. I brought her nearly to the city, and then a sorcerer named Michael took her the rest of the way on horseback.”
“What’s your name?” the guard asked.
“Tarak.”
“Hold on.”
The guard disappeared out of view.
Suddenly, the bridge started lowering with loud clanks of metal. Tarak stepped back to ensure he wouldn’t be crushed.
The same guard he’d seen on the wall walked out from the castle. He peered left and right quickly, as if checking for a trap but not suspecting one. He gestured for Tarak to approach.
The guard was dressed in the typical armor Tarak had seen on other guards around the city. They wore leather armor, no helmet, and kept their swords sheathed on their belts. This one in particular was clearly younger than most. He couldn’t be a day over thirty, but something in his eyes told Tarak that he had seen more battle than most men his age.
“I’m Rick Wepper,” the guard said. “Michael told me to expect you. Follow me.”
“Did the ranger make it back here? Her name is Aliana.”
“Yeah, she’s going to be fine. She’ll be resting for a few days at least.”
“I am relieved. This belongs to her.” Tarak tried to pass off the bow, but Rick would not take it.
“You can give it to her yourself. Follow me.”
A reward seemed imminent in his future.
“I wish to see Michael as well.”
“I’m sure you will,” Rick murmured.
Tarak followed the guard through an open space between the two round walls. He spotted a stable to his left that he’d caught sight of the last time he’d walked by, but now he could see it was large enough to house at least a dozen horses.
Was that another stable to his right? He wondered how many horses were in the king’s possession.
He must be a very rich man, surely from siphoning taxes from the hardworking people who suffered every day.
There had been a king in Tarak’s time, but he did not live in a castle like this. He dwelled in a wooden fortress with a moat. A strong palisade made it so he never had to look at the people he lorded over. He was a greedy bastard. He taxed the people into the ground, probably like this king. He sent his lords and guardsmen around bellowing about the end of times, that the town would soon come under attack and needed proper defense. Of course, none of the taxes went toward building walls or defenses. Tarak never saw where his coin went. It was another reason he cared little to make more. The king would just take a larger percentage.
That king did not personally get to know Caarda and the other Deviants, but Caarda had introduced himself to this king. He perhaps did much more than that, Tarak realized. His father had probably involved himself in the recent war.
