Traitor for Hire: Mage Code Read online

  "It's not a story. It's my life."

  "It's the past, Galeron," Lonni said. "You can't change it. A story's all it is."

  "Continuing," said Iven. "Galeron goes off to earn the coin, every last piece. That's how he met me, by the way."

  "You became sell-swords at the same time," said Lonni.

  "No," Iven said. "Who's telling this story? Me or you?" Silence reigned. "Thank you. We met in the boxing circles of Soterios, actually." He grinned and rubbed his jaw. "He knocked me out in two hits during our match. Then, we became sell-swords together. Two years go by, we earned the coin, and Galeron returns home this past summer. However, after Galeron paid Melia's father, she suddenly changed her mind on marriage. No warning, and we don't know why, but she dithered for two months before actually telling him." Iven spread his arms. "There you have it. The epic tragedy of Galeron Triste."

  "A real tale for the stage," Galeron mumbled.

  "Buck up, Galeron," said Rand. "No one breaks hearts quite like young women. My duckling certainly has over the years."

  Lonni frowned. "Papa, I don't break hearts. I crush them so they won't come calling again."

  Rand nodded. "That would explain the long line of disappointed men we leave everywhere and the lack of grandchildren."

  "Get over her," said Lonni, looking at Galeron. "She wasn't worth your time or effort."

  "Really?" asked Iven. "You don't say?"

  Lonni snarled at him. "Any man who would work that long just for one woman can't be all bad. She should have felt honor-bound regardless of feelings."

  "I think I should start charging a price to court you, then," said Rand. "A little more coin on the side never hurt."

  "Papa."

  "Only joking, my duckling, only joking."

  CHAPTER TEN

  True to the caravan master's word, progress was slow on the hot summer's day. They would no sooner get moving than a herd of cattle would start crossing the road again. Usually, these interruptions were brief, but the longer the day went, the larger the herds grew.

  The reek of livestock drifted all the way to Rand's powder wagon and permeated the stuffy interior. Lonni was unusually quiet, pouring over her tomes at the front of the carriage while Galeron sat in the back. After the previous night, she avoided eye contact and had given him a grunt to take the place of a "good morning." Perhaps it was better this way. At least she wasn't tormenting him with powder mixture formula that he would never use.

  The caravan ground to a halt again. Iven's upside-down face appeared in the open window, shining and dripping with sweat. "We're going to be stuck a while. This herd's a pretty big one, and the drivers aren't having much luck getting them motivated."

  Galeron nodded. "Anything interesting?"

  "Looks like a couple of steers tried to gore a horse at one point, but they put a stop to it," Iven said. "You do your morning stretches?"

  He sighed. "Yes, Iven."

  "Good. I can't face a horde of angry Azizi all by myself again, no matter how good I am."

  "Is there a point to your babble?" asked Lonni, not looking up.

  Iven's face soured. "I babble because I'm bored. Surely you have an annoying habit when you're feeling dull."

  "You assume I get bored," Lonni said, turning a page.

  "Please, everyone does," Iven said. "I babble, Galeron broods. What do you do? Pace...play with cards...juggle?"

  She slammed the tome shut. "I use Rayan bowmen for target practice." She narrowed her eyes. "In fact, I'm feeling dull right now. Care to help me cure it?"

  "Someone forgot to tighten their ropes last night," Iven said.

  Lonni scowled. "Do you ever speak sense?"

  Iven raised an eyebrow. "You don't have that saying?"

  "No."

  "In Raya, most beds have ropes to support the pallet," Iven said. "They're really nice, but you've got to tighten them every night to maintain a firm support and get good sleep." He sighed. "It's like sleeping on the ground, if the ground were made of clouds."

  "I slept fine, thank you," Lonni said. "Now leave me be."

  Iven looked at Galeron. "How do you stand it in there?"

  "Keeping quiet usually works," he said.

  "Yes, yes, I talk too much. I've heard that before." Iven disappeared from the window, but within a few moments, his face returned. "We haven't moved."

  "I see why you travel with him," Lonni said. "How did you get along before Iven was there to state the obvious?"

  "I'm not just talking about us," Iven said. "The cattle haven't moved either. They're just milling about on the highway, and the drivers aren't making any attempts to motivate them."

  Galeron frowned. That was unusual. Whoever owned the livestock wasn't going to be pleased with their workers, but the caravan would just have to wait them out.

  Lonni held up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

  Galeron closed his eyes and opened his ears. A low rumble sounded in the distance. "Thunder?"

  Iven snorted. "You wish. There's not a cloud in the sky."

  "Stampede?"

  Iven turned and then shook his head. "No. Cows are right where I left them."

  "Someone's coming, then" said Lonni. "If it's bandits, they're in for a surprise."

  Galeron shifted closer to the window and whispered, "Drakes?"

  Iven pressed his lips together and looked at the horizon. "Maybe. It wouldn't be all that hard to find us. There's only one road that connects Trinetta to Azura."

  "Ideas?"

  "If Atreus or one of the others is leading the group, we're in deep trouble," Iven said. "Until we know for sure what we've got--"

  "What are you mumbling about?" asked Lonni.

  "Whether or not I had enough coin to court you," said Iven.

  "As if I'd ever accept."

  "That's what Galeron said."

  Lonni walked to the opposite window and leaned out. "It's getting louder, but I can't see anything."

  That didn't make sense. "Why not? It's all flat."

  "There's a huge dust cloud on the horizon," Lonni said.

  "Boiling bones, we're in it now," hissed Iven. "You could have picked a better time to break your collarbone."

  Galeron breathed deep and slow, trying to calm his pounding heart. Dust clouds meant horses, lots of them, and there was no way common foot bandits would have that many. As long as Atreus and the others weren't with the Drakes, they might get out unscathed. No one else would recognize them. He looked over Lonni's shoulder at the growing dust cloud. Out of it poured horsemen racing straight for their caravan. The group split up and diverted to either side, racing up and down the length of the carriage train.

  "Maybe twenty of them," came Iven's voice from up top. "We're definitely in trouble, though. The guards are just giving up and throwing their weapons down."

  "Someone didn't pay them enough," Galeron said.

  "Who are they?" asked Lonni.

  Galeron squinted. They bore neither colors nor house banners, but only one group could raid caravans on horseback. "Drakes."

  "What do they want?"

  Me. That was the true answer, but he couldn't tell her that part. With luck, the Drakes would assume they had the wrong caravan and go looking elsewhere. His allotment of luck had probably run out back in Trinetta, though. What could they do now?

  "I wouldn't know," Galeron said.

  "They've cut us off, in case you were wondering," Iven said.

  "Not to worry, duckling." Rand's voice drifted in from the driver's bench. "I'm sure this will be over shortly."

  A lone rider, clad head to toe in shining plate armor, galloped up and down the length of the caravan. "Merchants, you are now prisoners of the Black Drakes, but we care nothing for you or your wares. We only have one demand. Bring me the Deathstalker, and your caravan leaves in peace. He is here, among you, but he will not be hard to spot. Stories say he is seven feet tall with eyes like the night." The rider laughed. "Give him up, or we will come and find him."

/>   Galeron froze. How could they know? Was it a ploy? Were they just saying so in hopes of being right? If they made the same demands of enough caravans, and they'd eventually be right. He forcibly exhaled and turned to the other window. The rider trotted up that side, relaying the same message again and again.

  Lonni shook her head. "Deathstalker. They're chasing a myth."

  Galeron frowned. This was a new one. "How's that?"

  "The tale of the Deathstalker was manufactured," said Lonni. " King Soren needed an example of a mortal killing a mage in combat, so he invented the Deathstalker. It's all a ploy to justify his persecution. Looks like it worked. Even the Drakes are hunting him."

  Galeron smiled in spite of himself. "You can plead your case to them, then."

  "It'll do no good," Lonni said. "They believe the story, and trying to convince them otherwise will only make them think we have him."

  We do. "As you say."

  Iven leaned over the window again. "They found us. How did they find us?"

  Galeron bit the inside of his mouth. "Bluffing, maybe."

  "We'll see, but I smell a rat," Iven said.

  "Now you're sounding like the king," Galeron said. "Insisting rebels are hiding everywhere."

  Iven gestured to the armed horsemen. "This coming from you? At least my paranoia has played out."

  Galeron opened his mouth, and then shut it. A fair point. "I'm open to suggestions."

  "The one thing we don't do is turn you in," Iven said.

  "I knew that one."

  "We aren't cutting our way out. They aren't half-naked Azizi."

  "Knew that, too."

  "Then you think of something."

  Galeron shook his head. "Our best bet is just to be patient."

  "How thrilling."

  The moments snailed by. The rider delivered his message several more times before stopping. Only the sounds of creaking wood and nickering horses penetrated the summer afternoon. The Drakes seemed content to let them stew in the wagons, for they made no further demands the rest of the day. The sun set, but the Drakes hadn't moved from their positions. Some dismounted and let their horses graze, but the perimeter still remained. Torches blazed to life.

  A commotion erupted toward the front of the carriage train. People screamed and doors slammed. The noise grew louder and closer until the door to their own carriage was wrenched open. Two men in chain mail grabbed Lonni and hauled her out. She screamed and struck them, but they ignored the blows.

  "Out, everyone out," one of them said.

  Galeron followed, and the one not restraining Lonni seized Galeron's war ax and shield. They marched them toward a line of kneeling people with their hands on their heads. He caught a glimpse of Iven and Rand being forced in the same direction. Galeron's captor slammed him to his knees next to Lonni.

  "Hands on your head," he said. "Drop them, and we kill you."

  Galeron did as he was told, putting his good hand on the crown of his head. Iven landed on his right, and his captor gave the same speech.

  "I've had better nights," Iven mumbled.

  "Quiet," said the Drake behind him.

  The rider from that afternoon walked in front of them. "Is this all of them?"

  "Aye, Commander Elrik," one of the soldiers said.

  Elrik removed his helmet, tossing it to the squire following close behind. The torches cast shadows over his face, concealing half of it in darkness. His close-cropped black hair shone with sweat, as did his well-trimmed beard. A tall man off the horse, Elrik loomed over him.

  "Good merchants, you have been given a fair chance," said Elrik. "I have allowed, wasted even, the entire afternoon for you to produce the Deathstalker, but you have not done so. Perhaps you know who he is, and refuse to give him up." He shook his head. "Loyalty is admirable but costly." His gaze swept the crowd. "Or perhaps he has not revealed his identity. Maybe he hides in your midst, without your knowledge. If he is truly the Deathstalker, he is a master of disguise."

  Elrik walked to the opposite end of the line. He grabbed the first individual, an old and grizzled man by the jaw, metal gauntlets pressing into his cheeks. "The Deathstalker. Do you know who he is?" He twisted the man's face from side to side. "What's that? No? You don't? Pity." Elrik released the man and went to the next. "Deathstalker. Know him? I want to talk to him, just for a minute."

  On and on it went as Elrik made his way down the line.

  "We're going to get killed for a lie," whispered Lonni.

  "Men have died for less," Iven said.

  "Not helping," said Galeron through gritted teeth.

  Elrik reached Lonni next, grabbing her face and twisting it to meet his. "Tell me, pretty one, do you know the Deathstalker?"

  "You're hunting a lie," Lonni said through squished lips.

  Elrik released her, his voice dropping lower and softer. "What did you say?"

  She spat at the ground. "You're hunting a lie. The Deathstalker doesn't exist. King Soren is playing you."

  "Really?" Elrik grabbed her by the hair and pulled her close, pressing her back against his chest and bringing his sword to her neck with his free hand. "A monster doesn't require belief to be real. You'd best hope you're wrong though, because either I get the Deathstalker, or I get you."

  "You're the monster," said Rand. "Take your hands off her before--"

  The butt of a spear silenced his threat.

  "Come out, Deathstalker," Elrik said. "Fair trade, wouldn't you say? The life of the woman for your own? Come out from the shadows."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Galeron's heart pounded. Elrik scanned the gathering, and as his gaze turned away, Galeron whispered to Iven, "I've got to get the sling off."

  "Don't be a fool," Iven hissed. "She's not worth dying for, and your arm's not healed."

  "It's good enough, and what choice do I have?" He fell silent as Elrik's gaze swept back in their direction.

  His eyes turned away, and Galeron shifted his right arm in the sling, inching it out of the fabric and gently shaking the straps off. He grunted as his arm came free, supported only by his own muscle and bone. His shoulder throbbed, but he ignored it.

  "I grow tired of waiting," Elrik said. "Show yourself, or I'll show you the inside of her throat."

  "He's bluffing," said Iven.

  He ignored him. He couldn't take such risks with another's life, especially when Rand, if not Lonni, had shown them nothing but kindness. Galeron dropped his arms and rose to his feet. "Here I am."

  "Sit down, Galeron," choked Lonni.

  Elrik's eyebrows shot up. "Eager to die? I asked for the real Deathstalker, not some nursling."

  Galeron tightened his muscles, trying to prevent his body from shaking as he walked forward. He stopped a few feet from Elrik and met his gaze. "Have one of your men get my sword from the carriage. That should be enough proof for you."

  Elrik nodded at one of his men, who returned a few moments later bearing the naked black sword.

  "Commander, he speaks the truth," the soldier said. "It's just as the legends say. A blade scorched by the fires of the dead."

  Lonni gaped at him, and Elrik narrowed his gaze. "So it is." He smiled. "Well met, Deathstalker. Atreus sends his regards and hopes you won't be disappointed that he didn't kill you in person."

  "Last I saw of him, he was bleeding out from an arrow in the back," Galeron said, taking slow and even breaths.

  "Atreus is immune to pain," said Elrik. "He has a very long memory, though. That's where I come in. Delivery of his vengeance falls to me."

  "Was he too much of a coward to show up in person?" called Iven.

  Elrik's smile turned into a sneer. "He mentioned you, Iven Porter. I'm to keep you alive. His apprentice has unfinished business with you."

  "Tell her to get in line," Iven said.

  "Do we have a deal?" asked Galeron. "My life for hers?"

  "Indeed we do," Elrik said. He shoved Lonni away. "But not like this. Your legends say you can kill a mage. L
et's see if it's true." He gestured to one of his men. "Give him back his weapon."

  Galeron accepted his blade, which weighed heavily in his palm. He shifted and gripped the hilt with both hands, steadying it.

  "Your sword looks impressive, Deathstalker," Elrik said. "But I draw my power from my armor. No blade can cut it, and no arrow can pierce it." He accepted his helmet from the squire. "After a necromancer, I should be an easy opponent."

  Galeron said nothing, looking at his sword. It had served him well through his informer days, but it was an older design, meant more for the years when warriors wore chain mail rings, not plate. Its point was not thin enough to fit the tiny gaps in Elrik's armor. He could bang away at his foe, but nothing would penetrate. He'd need the war ax, but that wasn't an option.

  Elrik raised his blade. "Come. Let's dance." His voice echoed from his helmet.

  Galeron positioned his feet and lowered his sword into a defensive stance. Time to put the legends to the test. Their blades clashed with an ear-splitting shriek. Elrik locked blades at the crossguard and forced Galeron's sword back at his face. His sheer strength rushed through Galeron's defenses, but he side-stepped and let the blades hit the ground. Elrik struck, seeking his neck, but Galeron matched the technique, catching the blow on the flat of his sword. His collar bone throbbed with every parry and blow. He shoved it from his mind.

  Pain was temporary.

  Galeron swerved away from another strike and circled his foe. Plate armor was excellent defense, but it would get hot in there sooner or later, and the night hadn't cooled much from the daytime heat. Galeron suppressed a jolt of excitement as he thought on it. Unlikely that he could survive long enough for Elrik to collapse from heat stroke, but it was his only option.

  They traded blows again, strike and counterstrike finding no purchase. Galeron retreated and reset his stance, presenting his left shoulder. His right quivered, though no pain radiated from it. He drew ragged breaths and leapt back into the fight. The dark sword clanged against Elrik's chest in a shower of sparks. Elrik stabbed and cut across Galeron's rib cage.

  The slice burned, and hot beads of blood trickled down his side. Galeron lunged, aiming for his opponent's exposed armpit. Elrik sidestepped and thrust again, but he blocked and stepped into the attack. Pivoting on his front foot, Galeron smashed the pommel into Elrik's helmet. He grunted and staggered back, slashing his blade up at Galeron's face.