Locmire's Quest: Book One A Tales from Calencia Novel Page 15

  Chapter 3

  The Mage

  Two moons had passed since Locmire first encountered the Pirate, Red Maher, in the Dead Lands. Red turned out to be a great travel companion, and Locmire was amazed by his stories that helped to pass the time considerably faster. Red told of his world and his adventures, as did Locmire. The Pirate was also very educated, though Locmire once thought the opposite. His navigation skills surpassed Locmire’s when it came to plotting routes through the Dead Lands, even though the strange Human had never set foot in this world until a few nights earlier. The longer they traveled together, the more certain Locmire became that Red was fated to cross the Wizard’s path, although his ultimate purpose was still unknown.

  Locmire knew that the edge of the Dead Lands drew near; it was considerably warmer, the sun shone much brighter, and in the distance he could hear the faint chirps of several birds. Knowing that he would soon emerge from this depressing land brought him a sense of relief. Unfortunately, the inevitability of returning to the Dead Lands after recruiting all of the Saviors, still sat heavy upon his shoulders.

  “Ahoy, Old One! Me be seein some green thar in da distance!” exclaimed Red.

  “Ah, yes,” Locmire replied as he looked to the direction Red pointed. “We are coming close to our first destination. The green that you see is the forests of Lasticall. A little further north, we will make contact with the first of the Saviors in Galdarath.”

  “If dat be da forest of da En-ginnies, den why in da muddy rudders are we not goin thar first?”

  “I have already told you. We must have the support of the Human King if any of the other races are to follow us . . . . ‘twas the way it happened the first time and the way it must happen now.”

  “Well, me bets dem dar En-ginnies would join if ye started peltin em wit yer far stick,” Red chuckled.

  “I hardly believe the Engeniums would cooperate with us if I began to hurl fireballs at them,” Locmire noted with a slight grin.

  “Well, we needs ta be gettin somewhur soon cause me gots no clothes, and it be a darn bit cold out here,” Red said as he rubbed the goose flesh from his bare arms.

  Before Locmire could respond he spotted something in the distance. He stopped his horse suddenly and extended his arm for Red to do the same.

  “Up ahead. . . . a group of travelers. They are pulling a portable holding cage behind their carriage. We must tread carefully. Most of these sorts are head hunters. They travel throughout the lands collecting wanted persons for a reward of gold . . . very irritable and very short tempered,” he leaned forward to get a better look. “By the looks of it, there seems to be about-,”

  “Fifteen of em. . . all armed. Got a girl in dem cage,” Red said as he held a long, round object up to his eye. Locmire was staring at the object with a look of great curiosity.

  “It be a telerscope. It fur seein great distance.”

  “I see,” said Locmire with a smile on his face. Red always seemed to impress him with some sort of gadget from his unknown world. The compass, though, still impressed him the most.

  “Fur a man wit a big hood coverin his eyes all da time, an blacked out goggles, ye sure do got some keen eyes thar.”

  “I see just fine, my friend. My hood keeps the sun out of my eyes,” the Master Wizard said, smiling.

  As the duo approached the head hunters, Red hopped off of his horse and marched toward them before Locmire could direct him otherwise. Sitting on his black steed, the Old One, as Red often referred to him, watched as the captain engaged in what seemed to be a rather heated conversation with the group. After a few minutes, Red came strutting back toward Locmire with a large grin on his grizzled face.

  “Well ye be’s right. Dat thar group be very unpleasant. Dey be refusin to let us pass . . . said dey got some business wit some udder lads and need not be distracted. Da whole crew be laughin at me, sayin me be's talkin like a bafoon. What be yer plan?” scuffed Red.

  “Well,” Locmire said as he surveyed the area, “that is the direction of our plotted path. If we must go around them, we will be in the Dead Lands for at least another day. That would be a big setback.”

  Red marched off once more saying, “Aye aye.”

  This time, the group of head hunters could tell that the upcoming discussion was not going to be friendly. The hapless face that approached them moments ago had transformed. The Pirate's face carried the look of a determined man; a man who had his mind set on getting what he wanted. The men formed a half circle around Red, with their hulking leader in the center. The leader of the band of bounty hunters stood a head taller than Red. The man outweighed Red by at least fifty pounds, but it was not fat that accounted for the significant weight difference. He was light skinned, bald-headed, and missing a few teeth from the front of his yellow smile. He wore ragged trousers and a dirty tunic. The hilt of an iron great sword jutted up past his shoulders for everyone to see.

  “I done told you, buffoon, turn yourself around if you do not want trouble. We have business to take care of, and you are not part of it,” said the man as he spat on the ground at Red’s feet.

  Red stood still with his hands on the hilts of his cutlasses.

  Once again, the large man spoke, “This is your last warning! You and your friend-” the man took notice of the way Red's hands were twisting around the hafts of his cutlasses and knew that the talking was over. “Forget it! Kill them! And be quick-,” but his words were silenced.

  With amazing speed, Red drew both of his weapons. His left hand shot forward and the finely made steel cutlass plunged into the yellow-toothed man’s throat, leaving him dead in seconds. Red then made a wide sweeping motion with his right hand, disemboweling three more of the head hunters to his right. The remainder of the group advanced on him at once. Red leapt backwards and cut down two more men after their strikes fell short. With a great flash, the battle came to an abrupt end. Locmire had sent a large blazing ball of fire directly into the center of the remaining thugs, scorching them to nothingness.

  Red whipped around, “Why did ye do dat fur? Me had em right whur me wanted em.”

  “It looked to me as if numbers were against you, my friend. I just thought I would even the odds,” Locmire said.

  Suddenly, Red stuck his hand behind his back and pulled out a funny looking wooden and brass object. He pointed it in Locmire’s direction.

  BANG!

  An ear splitting boom and bright flash erupted from the end of the object. Locmire hunkered down, as if to dodge whatever it was Red had just sent his way. Locmire aimed his staff at Red, ready to unleash a barrage of flames at him, but then he heard the sound of something falling right behind him. He turned to see another of the head hunters, probably a lookout, lying at his feet with a dagger tightly clenched in his hand.

  “Arrr, Old One, ye not be da only one ta be shootin things from his stick,” chuckled Red.

  “Bring that here!" Locmire demanded. "What kind of magic do you possess?”

  Red strolled over to Locmire, handing him the curved wooden object.

  “Ain’t no magic. Dis here be’s a pistol. Shoots a lead ball out da end, killin almost anything in its path. If ye aim it good at least.”

  “Magnificent,” said Locmire.

  “Would either of you boastful heroes mind coming over here and setting me free?” asked a female voice from behind them.

  “Ahoy thar, me lady!” said Red as he and Locmire walked over to the portable prison.

  “Sorry about the events that have taken place before you. I really hate-,” Locmire started, but she cut him off.

  “Less talking and more action. You must hurry! The authorities of Causperias will be here shortly. You must set me free!” exclaimed the woman.

  “Why are you wanted?” asked Locmire.

  “Why does it matter? If they arrive, they will surely kill me. I am innocent of the crimes they accuse me of. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” she yanked on the bars frantically, with a look
of desperation in her eyes. “Please, mister! You must set me free!”

  Locmire was not sure why, but he had a strong feeling that this meeting was not a coincidence. Is she one of the others the prophecy spoke of? Locmire wondered.

  The Wizard raised his staff and pointed it at the iron lock on the cage. With a quick wave of his staff, the lock fell off. The woman jumped out of the cage and started to run, but it was too late. A loud rumbling, which sounded like thunder, closed in on them. Once again, they were surrounded. This time by a large fleet of horses with armor clad riders.

  “Halt, woman!” demanded one of the riders.

  She tried to turn and run in the other direction but was quickly headed off by another rider. She was trapped.

  “By the order of the authority of Causperias, this woman is to return with us where she is to be put to death by hanging. Step aside, citizens. No need for this to turn ugly,” the rider bellowed.

  Red once again drew his cutlasses, a move that caused the entire army to take up arms.

  “Put your steel away, Red. There is no need for further bloodshed,” Locmire said as he climbed down from his horse. “If you do not mind me asking, what is this woman’s crime?”

  “That is none of your business. Now step aside!” demanded the rider once more.

  At that moment, the woman, who looked like a fox caught in a trap, drew a staff from the back of the carriage that was connected to her prison. She made a forward thrust with the narrow length of wood and muttered something under her breath. A large red wave erupted from the end of her staff and flew through the air toward the armed men. In the blink of an eye, Locmire waved his own staff and produced a large blue wall that sheltered the riders from the crimson wave of magic that hurtled toward them. The two spells collided giving birth to a great flash of light and a concussive force that sent the female spell caster flying through the air. The riders quickly turned in the other direction, galloping away frantically, not looking back. They rode hard and fast, fearing for their lives.

  “Well, we be’s makin friends right and lef,” said Red as he sheathed his steel and spat on the ground.

  “I do not think those are the friends we want to have. They are military from Causperias, the greatest city in Galdarath, next to the capital city of Ravendale. This surely will not make our travels into the Human city any easier,” said Locmire.

  “Well, if dis hur wench haddn went all crazy and pult one of dem Wizard'n spells, we mighta been able to talked are way out of dis mess,” Red said as he looked over at the unconscious Mage. “Sides, it wudda been lot easier to let hur stay in dat thar cage.”

  “I could not leave her. Although I am not certain, I do believe she is the next person of whom the prophecy foretold. I have the same feelings about her as I did about you when we first met.”

  “Well, whadda ya gawn do now? She be layin der all knocked out from her own Wizard'n spell.”

  “She is no Wizard,” said Locmire, with what sounded like an offended tone. “True Wizards do not need to speak incantations when casting spells, nor do we need a staff to use magic. A staff just helps to strengthen the spell. She is a mage. She cannot perform magic without speaking incantations. A mage learns magic; a Wizard is born with it. Wizards are race in their own right, mages are not. This would be why the riders were seeking to put her to death. To most of the civilized world, her sorts are considered witches. We must take her with us. Gather her staff and help me get her on my horse. She rides with us.”

  Red hoisted the girl up in the air where she lie slumped over the front of the horse with Locmire riding behind her, keeping her in place as they departed. Red saddled up, and they set off toward Galdarath with the sun at their backs.