Arcane Mercenaries: Insurrection, page 36
The crossbows in the windows remained steady, their aim unwavering as they monitored the mercenaries' movements. Whoever was manning those bows understood that the real threat wasn't Rienne, and they wouldn't allow Ez to twitch a finger before releasing a volley of bolts into their bodies.
A trickle of energy flickered across Grant’s awareness. He didn’t move a muscle as he probed for more power and nudged a steel ball the size of one of his pistol rounds with his toe. It was still gleaming steel.
He cast his gaze at the bard as she positioned herself before the group. She knew something and was stalling for time. Was she aware of the limitations of Gornick’s weapons?
Hope pulsed through Grant’s veins, stronger than the force of his arcane energy. Rienne could turn this around if she stalled long enough.
"History is penned by the conquerors, bard," the queen retorted. She shifted away from the inn's entrance. Four bodyguards flanked her and lined up between her and the mercenaries. "I am confident my chroniclers will cast a favorable light upon my actions."
Grant's attention was drawn to the sign displaying an old, weather-beaten tankard, the recipient of countless toasts over the years. Time would allow the anti-magic field to disperse, but it also meant that the remaining soldiers could regroup and prepare more ranged weapons. It was a risky gamble.
"But what about your pact with the church? It is a stark departure from the secular rule you've maintained since your ascent to the throne. How will history remember the day you yielded to the priesthood?" She gestured at the lifeless body of the priest, a mere six paces away from the wrecked carriage.
"They provided me with a solution to the curse that Grant and his mercenaries represent. I could not reject the weapons that promised to bring down the StarTouched and Dominick's closest confidants. I was willing to negotiate with the church as long as I retained my crown."
“Did you understand what the church was offering?” Grant asked. His voice broke the exchange between the bard and the queen.
"They promised me victory—“
"No, they offered to sow more hatred in your lands. These knights, equipped with these weapons, would persecute your subjects and bring the horrors of the Mage Wars to the heart of Ismore. The civil war would seem trivial in comparison to the ensuing chaos. All stoked by the hatred fueled by their religion."
The queen brushed off his concerns with a flick of her hand.
“Gornick,” Grant called out, leaning to look at the wounded scientist who was still huddled behind the barrels. “Did you tell the queen about the limitations of your weapons?”
The queen’s gaze darted between the prone scientist and the fully recovered mercenary.
“Does the church know?” Grant probed again.
The man curled up behind his cover but said nothing.
“It’s limited, your majesty,” Grant said as confusion marred her forehead. “Your weapons have a finite time to suppress our abilities. Gornick knows his weapons aren’t perfect, and you just took an enormous risk standing in the courtyard of the Rusty Tankard with four StarTouched mercenaries.”
“Lies,” one of the order growled in response.
The queen glanced at the man, and the wrinkles disappeared from her forehead. She was likely convinced that Grant, cornered and desperate, would sacrifice the last shreds of his honor to save his skin. It was a behavior Queen Fraunces must have witnessed regularly at her court.
“Tell her,” Ez shouted at Tytus Gornick. The man tucked his legs tighter to his body, getting them out of the line of fire. “That wound has to hurt. Tell her the truth, and we’ll let a surgeon take care of you.”
“They lie, your majesty,” the knight from the order said. “He watched his friend take a crossbow bolt in the belly and nearly die. They are as mortal as every guard surrounding you. They fear it.”
Grant bent down and picked up one of the steel balls at his feet. He examined its polished surface and infused a speck of energy into its core. His vision clouded over and he felt the weight increase in his hand. To his untrained eye, the device appeared similar to something that might be loaded into a canister round for Ismia’s cannons. It seemed to be nothing more than that. It must have been something from Freyham’s foundries.
“Tytus Gornick, you didn’t tell the church your experiment was incomplete,” Grant said.
That’s why they crated the weapons and kept them away from the knights and the queen’s guard. If they needed them, their magical edge would be dull and ineffective.
Science was Gornick’s master, and he kept secrets from everyone.
“I’ll bet you’re hoping the guards at the end of the column show up with the weapons in those crates,” Grant said to the audience. The crossbows didn’t waver in their aim, and the soldiers kept their wall of steel ready.
The queen tried to wave off his suggestion, but Grant wouldn’t let her speak.
“We started there. My lieutenant saw the emblems on the boxes, and my command sergeant destroyed the weapons in their crates in an arcane-powered blaze. What keeps the weapons effective, Tytus? Something in the boxes?”
“Doctor Gornick, please explain. None of this is true,” Queen Fraunces said.
Grant looked at the priest’s body. What did the church know about the weaknesses in Gornick’s weaponry? How could he use that to his advantage in his war against the church? Sowing the seeds of doubt was a great first start.
“Don’t believe him, your majesty,” the knight said.
The order moved forward to shield Tytus Gornick but was close enough to aid the queen if Grant moved in that direction. Their real purpose wasn’t to help the queen, it was to protect the church’s secret weapon. The crossbows, shields, and canister shot were impressive, but the weapon was Tytus Gornick.
“I’ll show you,” Grant said. He tossed the steel ball into the air and caught it in his hand. Grant tossed it again and removed the force of gravity from its trajectory as it started to fall. The polished surface reflected the dying fires in its glimmering depth while it hung in the air. He twisted his fingers and made the ball spin with nothing but the trained experience of using his abilities.
“Parlor trick,” the knight said. His voice was less certain, and he glanced at the hidden scientist.
Grant nodded and picked up another one. He was careful to move slowly and not trigger a wave of crossbow bolts by his movement. Thankful he didn’t hear the sharp retort of a steel spring, he stood up and gave an underhand toss toward the water barrel.
All eyes tracked the small projectile.
He summoned a surge of energy that altered gravity’s vector with enough force to penetrate the oak barrel with a crack. Water spilled out from the new hole like beer from a spigot.
Grant picked up another handful of the steel shot, tossed them in the air, and used his ability to hang them effortlessly above his head.
“I’m quite serious, your majesty. Tytus Gornick hasn’t been truthful with you or the church. The weaponry has a very short lifespan, and that time is over.”
His friends stood by his side and faced off against the guards.
“Your majesty, use the vial.” Tytus Gornick shouted from behind his cover.
66
SURPRISE
Queen Fraunces and her bodyguard reached into their belts and revealed vials filled with luminescent fluid. They were the same style as the Tul assassin and Queen Lenore of Eklund staff members used to harness stolen StarTouched power. These didn’t glow with internal energy like the others, and Grant knew they were the next phase of Gornick’s experiments.
“He didn’t tell you about the shields, bolts, and swords,” Grant warned. “Don’t do this.”
Without hesitation, the queen and her bodyguards drained the contents as Grant and his Arcane Mercenaries watched. He might have summoned enough gravity to knock the vials from their hands, but the shock of the open revelation gave them enough time to finish the contents.
“They’re Touched,” Jakar whispered, confirming Grant’s worst fears. “Different, but Touched.”
“Different, how?” Grant said, summoning a well of power as the hair on his body stood on edge. He hated fighting other Touched.
His friends matched his energy and readied their weapons, the crossbow bolts in the upper floors tracking their movements. Grant hoped Rienne’s delay did its trick because they were about to find out.
He used the hovering steel balls that once muffled his powers as a projectile as he threw them with the force of a gunshot. If the queen took the risk with the vials, she would fight her way out through the mercenaries. Soldiers fell from the impacts. Time to even the odds.
Crossbows clunked with the released tension on their steel springs, and bolts tore at the mercenaries from the inn’s upper floor. Grant’s heart soared as his mind tracked each projectile and summoned a power surge. Rienne’s gambit worked, and their magic was spent.
Grant sent the bolts harmlessly short in the soft earth, and the fires in the courtyard flickered, answering Jafran’s call.
“Different than StarFall,” Jakar said. “Arcane powers, but not like ours. Too hard to explain.”
“What do we do about it?” Ez shouted after she blasted a round through the upper-floor window. She handed the musket to Rienne and raised the wooden stock of her next weapon to her cheek.
“Is it like the vials they used near High Forest?” Grant prompted. He needed more information before the queen’s guard organized a charge.
“Nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Jakar said.
Grant cursed Tytus Gornick. Every time he felt they could regain the upper hand against the man’s unhinged scientific experiments, he produced a new power more dangerous than before.
“Gornick, what have you done?” Grant leveled his weapons and braced his feet.
The cowering scientist cackled behind his cover. Water streamed out of the barrel, but the knights of the order blocked the approach toward the fallen scientist.
The odds were grim. The knights lost their defensive magic but were skilled combatants dedicated to protecting the church’s greatest prize. Queen Fraunces and her bodyguard swelled with StarTouched ability, and Grant bet her bodyguards were as capable as any opponent in Ismore. Grant wasn’t sure they could defeat five Touched, the surviving knights, and the soldiers clustered around the inn.
“Does he have more vials?” Rienne asked. Her voice wasn’t panicked. She had far too much faith in Grant and his abilities.
“He would have used them,” Ez said, eyeing the upper floor for another target.
“Carriage or the stables?” Jafran asked.
“You, me, and Jakar take the bodyguards. Ez, don’t let the knights take Gornick.”
“What about me?” Rienne said, ready with Ez’s rifled musket.
“Lead our cavalry and keep the guards away from the fight.”
“Thanks. The three of us get the thirty guards while you fight a few bodyguards and knights,” she muttered loud enough for Grant to hear. The bard was more like one of Grant’s mercenaries every day. He had to make sure she survived this.
Ez chuckled and swung her barrel toward the knights, forcing them to duck behind their shields. Their armor was still effective against the musket rounds, but they probably wished they kept their helmets on.
“General, the fires,” Jafran said, jarring his attention from Ez and Rienne. They no longer flickered with the orange heat of Jafran’s mastery. They returned to their smoldering red.“Someone’s challenging me for the fires.”
Arcane powers had never been duplicated during the Mage Wars, and Jafran had never been a subject of Gornick’s experiments at Semturm. Someone had sufficient power to contest his control over fire.
The ground beneath Grant’s boots grew soft, forcing him to lighten his weight and sidestep the quicksand. Lamhas’ ability again. Whoever used his talent was clumsy, and Lamhas gave few clues before the ground opened up.
The vials gave them powers, but they were novices.
Ez was done waiting as arcane energy flared on both sides of the battle line. Her musket spat flames, and the knight closest to the draining water barrel fell in a heap. She dropped her musket and grabbed Rienne’s offering.
“I’ll accept your surrender, your majesty,” Grant said. “We don’t have to fight this way.”
Queen Fraunces’ skin glowed with an unhealthy gold as she struggled to control the foreign fluid giving her unknown powers. Her expression oscillated between ecstasy and agony as she struggled to find equilibrium with her new abilities. She struggled to muster her voice to answer Grant’s challenge.
“Kneel before me, Grant,” Queen Fraunces said, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled for control. “Teach me how to control this, and I will give you a kingdom. We will make a place for everyone with these abilities.” She choked and coughed as she tried to reclaim her voice. “I understand now.”
Doubt crippled Grant’s approach. If the Queen of Ismore offered him the same opportunity as Dominick, why not claim a piece of the world for himself and his mercenaries? They could establish a strong base of power and take on Cardinal Wallner’s plans. He could throw that villain into the underworld’s darkest depths with a stroke of his blade.
Was this what Irwin saw as he grappled with his newfound powers after StarFall? Revulsion and curiosity slowed his advance.
He could join the queen. Nobles changed sides in Ismore after every setback. She was an unmarried regent, and he could take his place at her side. They wouldn’t need children to secure their place in history. Their legacy would be power—untapped, unclaimed power.
He just had to look into those golden eyes and acknowledge her for what she was—ruler of Ismore and queen of the world.
Just kneel. Give her the fealty she deserved. He was just a general in service to his queen; she would raise him to the loftiest pinnacles of paradise.
Why couldn’t he bend a knee and worship this queen?
Grant’s muscles trembled, wracked from the internal conflict and shaking from the battle for his soul. His teeth hurt from his clenched jaw, and sweat covered his brow even though he couldn’t move a muscle.
Tytus Gornick giggled.
Just bend a knee and swear his undying loyalty to Queen Fraunces. That’s all she wanted, and the pain would be over. A few simple words.
Grant heard a gun blast. It had to be Ez, but it sounded like it was from a mile away.
He heard shouts.
Was that Jafran? It was his friend’s voice, but he didn’t know the words.
Rienne shouted nearby. It was astonishing how a petite woman could project her voice like that. She commanded attention when she needed it.
Where was Ez? Why did her pistol sound so far away?
Those golden eyes. The queen demanded his answer. She wanted him at her side. He could be an emperor over the world and unite the kingdoms. He could care for his friends and have them on his inner council.
Wait.
He rejected the offer to be an emperor. Grant detested every moment when Sina pronounced him her choice for consort.
He didn’t want to be a king.
Irwin’s face glowed in the depths of Grant’s memory. He never stopped thinking about her after StarFall. He remembered the grave behind his old house. He left them there to rot.
Grant wasn’t an emperor or a king. He was a mercenary cursed by the first moments of StarFall because he was curious. His family and friends paid the price.
His friends wouldn’t pay for them again.
Grant forced his arms to move, and his blade rose before his eyes. The silvered steel glinted, reflecting the fiery reds and oranges. He was a seasoned mercenary, a killer employed by Prince Dominick.
The queen didn’t have golden eyes. She had brown eyes.
The vials. Her new magic controlled minds to compel people to serve her. Grant was her target, and he had almost been her first victim.
He rejected her offer with every fiber of his being, and his StarTouched ability sang in his soul.
Her energy was spent. She didn’t understand her abilities or their toll.
Grant parried the strike aimed at his head. He didn’t know which part of his being detected the incoming assault, but he was alive. Grant wanted to live, and he wanted to win.
He blocked another attack and reversed the swing to catch his opponent across the forearms. Grant summoned a burst of energy and filled his heart and soul with power.
The blade was light again in his hands, and his vision cleared. The queen slumped to the ground, and her bodyguards lunged at him.
Grant was ready.
67
BLADES
A gravity wave slammed into Grant as he clutched his sword in two hands and tried to take stock of the Rusty Tankard’s courtyard. Five times the force of gravity bent his back and popped his muscles as he flailed against the arcane assault. His sword slammed into the ground, pried free from his desperate fingers.
The bodyguards approached.
Grant's power mended the soreness in his muscles and the aching in his tendons. Someone had his abilities. He thought he destroyed those vials when he handed the samples over to Gornick as a potential remedy back in Semturm.
There would be time for academic debate later.
Grant nullified the gravity wave with a mere thought and retrieved his weapon. The middle bodyguard looked surprised, and Grant chose him as his initial target as the source of the gravity surge.
Grant's StarTouched ability allowed him to manipulate gravity and comprehend its vectors, but it was not a set of mathematical equations executed with precise accuracy. The bodyguard brandished gravity like a sledgehammer with crude up-and-down swings. Grant maintained his focus on the vectors around him and negated the soldier's hamfisted approach to magic.
Is this what they thought he did on the battlefield?
