Wizard Pair (Book 3) (3 page)

The knight drew his sword and stabbed the closest sheep in the neck. A bright crimson spurt erupted. The sheep faltered, stumbled, and bleated out its death throes, splattering blood on the freshly repaired fence.

Zhimosom saw farmer Falk ball his hands into fists, but the farmer just stood there, silent.

"There, now you have meat. Get to work." The knight wiped the blood from his sword on the wool of the sheep and sheathed the blade. "Do you have any ale?"

"No sir, we have water. Only water, sir."

"Fetch some for me and my squire." The knight turned and strode arrogantly off to the house.

Zhimosom lead the horses to the watering trough and tied them. He lowered the bucket into the well and filled the trough. The horses drank thirstily.

He rubbed the knight's horse down and stroked its neck as the animals drank their fill. He didn't know much about horses, but he could tell these had been ill treated. They were thin from lack of food and had the skittishness of animals that had constantly been overtaxed. The knight was in for trouble if he didn't take better care of these horses.

Zhimosom drew another bucket of water and hauled it to the house. Issula stood over the table, slicing chunks of meat from the haunch that Falk cut from the murdered sheep. Falk left to dress the animal and butcher it properly, trying to salvage something for his family.

Issula cried silently as she cut the meat into pieces. She threaded them onto green branches that had been stripped of their bark, and handed them to Ewora, who placed them over the open flame to cook. The smaller children cowered silently in the corner.

Zhimosom set the bucket of water on the table and ladled out a cup for each of the men. He set one in front of the knight and the other in front of his squire.

The knight looked up at him. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, Sire," Zhimosom kept his eyes lowered, as he'd been cautioned. Zheet had very little to do with the Nobility or city folk, but he'd taught Zhimosom how to behave, should he ever come into contact with them. Zhimosom must have been a little too slow.

"I'm Sir Draveri. Knighted by King Omrik himself. I've come from the war, boy." He slapped his hand on the table. "I've been out in the field protecting the likes of you, and I demand a little respect and gratitude for my efforts. That's not too much to ask. Is it?"

"No, Sire," Zhimosom said. He stood quietly, waiting.

Sir Draveri looked Zhimosom over. "You don't look much like your pa,"

"He's not my pa..."

"Ha! Bastard, are you?" the knight interrupted before he could finish explaining. "I thought so. Sir Draveri grabbed Issula around the waist. "You look like a loose woman. I thought that the minute I saw you."

Issula struggled to escape his lecherous grip but he was too strong. He pulled her close, grabbing at her clothes, trying to rip them from her, making growling sounds.

Zhimosom took a step back, still clutching the half full bucket. Without thinking, he threw the ice cold water at the knight. It splashed on his armor and ran beneath it to soak him from head to toe.

Sir Draveri stood up and the bench went flying. He drew his sword free of its scabbard with one hand and upended the table with the other. He stepped forward and raised his blade.

"How dare you!" He advanced on Zhimosom. "I am a soldier of the realm! No peasant is going to make a mockery out of me."

Zhimosom raised the empty bucket to fend off the inevitable blow.

Castle Keep

Rotiaqua had never connected with anyone who could see her before. It had always been one way. She could see people, but not interact with them, and they never saw her, or even noticed her watching them.

That night she had been casting around, not looking for anything in particular, leaving her mind blank, roaming, open to anything that might catch her fancy. The boy in the hovel had appeared as plain as if he'd been in the room with her.

His name was Zhimosom and he was a serf on her father's land. They had talked, but when he found out who she was, he'd been frightened. She wanted to contact him to learn more from the only other person she knew who had magic, but tonight she couldn't find him.

She called up the image of the fireplace where he'd appeared the night before, but he wasn't there. She caught a glimpse of the old man slumped over the table, asleep, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

"Rotiaqua!" Oadry shouted at her. "What are you doing? You know better than that. What would your father think if he knew you were doing magic?"

Rotiaqua let the image in the fire fade and turned to Oadry. "Father doesn't have to know. I was just gazing, nothing dangerous."

"Who was that?" her maid demanded. "You know better that to talk to small folk; they're nothing but dirty thieving cowards, good for field work but little else. Next thing you know, one of those folk you keep calling up will step through that flame and kill you, just to get to your jewelry." Oadry reached out and snuffed the flame from the candle with her fingers.

Rotiaqua reached out with her senses and re-lit the candle flame without lifting her hands from her lap. She knew she was showing off, but she was tired of Oadry's constant scoldings. She didn't see how a little gazing was going to hurt anyone.

"Stop that," Oadry repeated looking at her with her brows all knotted up the way she got when she was angry. Oadry snuffed the flame once again.

Rotiaqua reached out once more with her magic and re-lit the candle, watching the flame rise to a height of several digits, then quickly snuffed it out, all without lifting so much as a finger. When that didn't get a reaction from Oadry, she did it again.

"I've had enough of this." Oadry came over, took the candle out of its holder, and stuffed it into a drawer. "You know how your father feels about magic."

"He's gone," Rotiaqua said jumping up from her chair. She turned the woman to face her, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. She looked into her maid's eyes as the woman struggled in her grasp. "I can't find him back!"

Oadry tried to free herself, but Rotiaqua held her tight.

"That's probably for the best." Oadry continued to squirm but didn't manage to break free. "Rotiaqua. If your father finds out you're practicing magic, he will kill me, and disown you. You know how he feels."

Rotiaqua sobered up at the thought. Oadry was taking a huge risk protecting Rotiaqua's secret from the Baron. He would have her head if he found out.

She tried to calm herself, but the thought of the boy connecting with her was just too exciting. "He can see me, like I can see him. That means he has magic, too. I have to find him back." She shook Oadry, trying to infuse her with the excitement she felt.

"Haven't you risked enough yet?" Oadry shook off her grasp and turned towards the bed. She started fluffing the pillows and straightening the covers. "You know how your father treats Wizards. If he finds that boy, he'll have him hanged. He has a Wizard in the gaol right now, one of those vagabond itinerant frauds that travel around causing trouble."

Oadry fussed with the bed coverings talking to Rotiaqua without looking at her. "You know the type. They sell remedies that don't work to folks who can't afford them, then run off before anyone realizes their remedies are a bunch of murmurings. The Baron has him locked in the gaol.

"He'll be hung tomorrow after spending the day in the stocks. That's how your father treats Wizards." Oadry shoved Rotiaqua towards the chair. She pulled a brush out of the same drawer where she'd stashed the candle. "Sit down, girl ... The stocks and hanging are what will happen to that boy if you keep this up. The Baron won't stand for it. The boy will be hung, and me right along with him for keeping your secret."

As her maid brushed out her hair, Rotiaqua questioned her about the Wizard. "Why does father hate Wizards so?"

"Because you're a girl." Oadry pulled at her hair with the brush, yanking it to get the knots out. "Your father wanted a son. He paid a Wizard for a charm to make sure he had one, but here you are, a girl."

Oadry fiddled with a particularly tough knot, finally working it loose. She continued brushing Rotiaqua's hair. "It was a Wizard that earned you that." She pointed to Rotiaqua's arm where the long pink scar lay.

Rotiaqua had clear memories of the incident, even though she was just a child when it happened. She remembered the creature clearly. It was like a weasel with leathery wings and tiny spiral-shaped horns. Its coat was shiny and smooth. It had flown in her window and settled on her arm and sat there purring softly like a kitten. She stroked its fur and talked to it. She wanted to keep it as a pet.

Her father had walked in on her. He screamed and drew his sword, striking out at the creature even as it sat on her arm. The sword sliced through the animal and slashed her skin. It was not a deep wound, but the blood rushed forth to mix with that of the mini dragon.

That was the sole memory she had of the event. She'd been told that the mini dragon belonged to a Wizard who was visiting the castle. It had been his familiar and when her father had killed the mini dragon, the Wizard had died along with it.

"Does the Wizard in the gaol have a mini dragon?" Rotiaqua asked. She hoped to see another one of the creatures one day.

"No, he does not. If he did, your father would have killed the mini dragon and let the Wizard die in agony without his familiar. This Wizard is a down and out swindler, just like the rest. He showed up today saying there was going to be a great war and that he could help your father win.

"Will there be?" Rotiaqua asked. "A great war?"

Oadry tugged at another snarl. "Who knows? There is always something going on. The knights don't feel like they're men unless they're off fighting somewhere. One of the knights returned home yesterday with stories of fighting up north.

"He said that a merchant caravan had passed through one of your father's villages, when one of the merchants had his way with a maid who lived there. It started a fight with the locals, and by the time it was over, they'd burned down the village and put the small folk to the sword.

"Your father's men happened upon them and ran them off before they could fire the fields. They caught and killed the fool that started it all."

She paused and waved the brush in the air, emphasizing her words. "Turns out the man they killed was the eldest son of some nobleman, and you know how much trouble they cause if someone touches one of their precious offspring."

Oadry tugged out one final tangle and placed the brush on the dresser. "That won't help the relation between the King and your father."

"Father is always complaining about King Omrik. He says they grew up together and the King was a spoiled brat from the start. Father doesn't think Omrik will do anything to harm us, though."

The sound of a horn split the air. Rotiaqua ran to her window to see a knight and his squire riding up the road. They carried her father's banner and rode their horses without a care towards their wellbeing.

The knight rode towards the castle, heedless of bystanders who might be in his way. He came close to trampling a small child who wandered into his path, but the toddler was snatched up by her mother at the last instant.

Rotiaqua saw him jump from his horse and dash for the audience chamber. She raced for the door, eager to hear what he had to say.

"Where are you going, girl?" Oadry reached for her but was too slow. Rotiaqua escaped the woman's grasp and sped off, taking the stairs two at a time. She arrived at the audience chamber just as the knight entered.

She knew better than to intrude, but she was curious. She hid behind a pillar and watched. She had to hear the story; no one ran like that with good news.

The knight entered and knelt before the Baron. "Your Lordship. The King has sent his army against us." He struggled to his feet, hampered by the weight of his armor and injuries.

"Out with it!" The Baron demanded. Rotiaqua shared his impatience from her hiding spot.

"We were on routine patrol around the towns and villages, when we ran afoul of the King's men."

As the knight told the story of what had happened, Rotiaqua saw the action in her mind's eye, just as she did in the fire when she was dreaming.

Sir Nalua and his men rode along the dusty road that split the golden fields of wheat. The men were proud knights; their armor was clean and well maintained, their horses strong and disciplined. The Baron's banner flew from the staff carried by his squire to alert the townsfolk that noblemen were coming.

Off in the distance, a thread of smoke rose from behind a hill. It was thin and light at first, the kind of smoke one expected to see from a village, but it grew thicker and darker as they rode. "I don't like the looks of that," Sir Nalua said, pointing out the darkening smoke.

He gestured to two of his men. "Go ride up ahead and see what's going on." A pair of knights spurred their mounts on and soon crested the hill, lost from sight.

The smoke grew thicker as Sir Nalua neared the town until billowing clouds of black obscured the sun overhead. Sir Nalua caught wind of burning flesh mixed with the tar that made up the homes and hovels of the village.

Sir Nalua and his men crested the hill to see the town ablaze. The two knights that had gone ahead lay in the road - dead. Sir Nalua jumped from his horse, rushed to them, and knelt down. They were pierced by short quarrels, the shafts sticking out of their armor where they'd penetrated the shiny plate.

"Who dares to attack the Baron's men?" Sir Nalua screamed.

He looked up to see a line of crossbowmen standing beside the road, loaded and ready. A knight wearing King Omrik's colors sat atop his steed. "I do,” the knight said.

Sir Nalua rose and drew his sword. "Who trespasses on the Baron's land?" He looked warily at the crossbowmen wondering if the Baron's banner was sufficient to stay their hands.

"The King considers these his lands. They are only granted to the Baron. We commit no trespass here."