Stuck in Magic CH6

Chapter Six

We left the following morning, bright and early.

I couldn’t believe just how clean the air was, after a week in the city.  It was hot and dry – I thought I could taste sand with every breath I took – and yet it was so pure.  The stench of human sweat and waste that had pervaded the city was gone, blown away by the smell of fields and pollen.  I thought I could taste sand in the air, whenever the wind shifted slightly, but I didn’t mind.  It was so far superior to the city that I honestly didn’t understand why so many people stayed there.

They don’t have a choice, I thought.  The city was … the city.  I’d picked up enough about local politics to know the cityfolk couldn’t simply move into the countryside and stay there.  The lucky ones would wind up swearing loyalty to the warlords or moving from place to place in hopes of finding work.  The unlucky ones … I grimaced.  The slave market haunted my dreams.  They’re stuck.

I glanced at Jasmine, sitting beside me as we led the convoy further down the rough road.  She looked oddly pensive.  She’d explained, as we waited to pass through the gates, that she’d be returning to magic school – I couldn’t help thinking of it as Hogwarts – within the month.  The thought bothered me more than I cared to admit, to anyone.  Jasmine was the closest thing I had to a friend, in the strange new world.  When she was gone … I didn’t know what I’d do.  I didn’t want to stay with her people and I didn’t want to set out on my own.  And there were no other choices.

My mind churned.  I’d moved from place to place before, but this was different.  This wasn’t my world.  The underlying assumptions of how things worked would be different.  The city might be reasonably tolerant – Jasmine had told me that merchants from all over the world passed though its gates – but the countryside would be suspicious of strangers.  I could see ways to irrigate the drying fields, yet … would they listen?  I’d met enough do-gooders back home, idiots who hadn’t understood how the world actually worked, to fear the locals wouldn’t listen to me.  They’d think I was just another idiot.  I would have sold my soul for the remainder of my old platoon, or even a handful of army buddies with guns.  If nothing else, we wouldn’t have been so vulnerable.  This was a dog-eat-dog world.

The wind kept shifting, blowing through Jasmine’s hair as she guided the horses onwards.  I frowned as we passed a set of hovels, the locals so worn they didn’t even look up at us as we passed, and headed deeper into the countryside.  The terrain was strange, a weird mixture of tundra, thickets and sandy near-desert that puzzled me.  I thought I spotted people living amongst the trees, but it was hard to be sure.  The back of my neck prickled as we headed further and further from the city.  I was certain we were being watched.  It was hard not to escape the feeling that some of the unseen eyes weren’t human.

“It’s good to be on the move again,” Jasmine said, more to herself than to me.  “We’ll find a place to camp somewhere …”

Her eyes narrowed as she peered into the distance.  I followed her gaze.  Three men on horseback sat ahead of us, holding what looked like spears.  It took me a moment to realise they were lances, honest to God lances.  A whiff of something unpleasant crossed my nostrils as the wind shifted again, a scent of horseshit mingled with something I couldn’t place.  They were knights in armour, yet they lacked the polish of movie knights or SCA recreationists.  It was hard to be sure – they were some distance away – but they looked more than a little grubby.  I reminded myself that didn’t mean they were useless.  I’d learnt the hard way that a military force that prized appearance over reality was certain to get thrashed when it actually had to fight.  And yet, it was hard to take them seriously.

I grimaced as the distance narrowed.  A tank would have squashed them flat and never even noticed.  Hell, an AFV or a police car – even a regular car – would have had no trouble running them down or outrunning them.  I doubted the horses would willingly charge a tank or an AFV.  And yet, I didn’t have a tank.  My hand dropped to my pistol, combat instincts screaming a warning.  There was going to be trouble.  I knew it. 

Jasmine scowled.  “Don’t say a word, unless they speak to you first,” she ordered, curtly.  I heard an edge of worry in her tone and shivered.  “And don’t tell them where you came from.”

I winced, inwardly.  Jasmine had more power in her little finger than most people had in their entire bodies.  I’d seen her use magic for all kinds of things.  I’d even encouraged her to show off a little, in hopes of understanding my new home.  It was hard not to feel a little intimidated by the power at her disposal, although she’d never done anything remotely threatening to me.  And yet, she was worried.  I eyed the knights worriedly.  Did they have magic too?  Or … or what? 

The knights moved into the middle of the road, forcing us to come to them.  My instincts kept sounding the alarm.  I felt as if we’d moved into an ambush, with insurgents on both sides ready to pour fire into our positions.  I found myself looking for cover, for places we could hole up while calling for air support … I shook my head in frustration.  It wasn’t going to happen.  We were trapped and yet … there were only three of the bastards.  Magic or no magic, we outnumbered them.  We could fight our way through easily.

It won’t be that easy, a small voice reminded me.  The knights represent the local warlord.

I kept my face impassive, somehow, as the convoy shuddered to a halt.  The knights managed – somehow – to look both ridiculous and dangerous.  Up close, their armour was tarnished and patched in dozens of places; their faces were twisted with grim anticipation that only sharpened when they looked at Jasmine.  I shuddered, bracing myself for real trouble.  They weren’t anything more than bully-boys, throwing their weight around as if they might lose it at any moment.   I knew the type.  They liked pushing people around, but they were useless in a real fight.  And they tended to alienate everyone, even potential supporters.

The knights dismounted and walked towards us, moving with surprising grace despite their armour.  They kept their swords in their scabbards – I was surprised they weren’t carrying gunpowder weapons, just swords and whips – but I was certain they could draw them at incredible speed.  Their armour looked heavy.  I made a mental bet with myself that the knights were at least as strong as me, probably stronger.  Their faces were brown, scarred and pitted with a lifetime spent in the open air.  They looked mad, bad and dangerous to know, but they wouldn’t be weaklings.  They were carrying heavy armour all the time.

And what sort of threats do they expect to encounter, I asked myself, if they’re wearing armour all the time?

The leader scowled as he stopped beside the caravan.  “Get down.”

Jasmine obeyed, putting the reins to one side before clambering down to the ground.  I followed, feeling uncomfortably exposed.  There were only three of them … I stared, silently assessing my chances.  I could draw my pistol and put a bullet through the first one’s head before he could react, probably.  They hadn’t moved to take my pistol, even though it was clearly visible on my belt.  I frowned.  They stared at me in cold disdain.  I realised my mistake a second too late.  I’d met their eyes.  There were cultures where meeting someone’s eyes was an unspoken challenge.

Perhaps I should grovel, I thought.  I hated the very idea of kneeling in front of a trio of thugs, but … perhaps there was no choice.  Perhaps I should …

The knight waved a hand at me.  “Who is he?”

“My prospective cousin, here to learn the ropes,” Jasmine said, quickly.  I kicked myself, mentally, for not suggesting we put together a cover story.  “He’s from Galicia.”

The knight looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my face for a long thoughtful moment.  One of his companions made a remark I didn’t quite hear, but sounded crude.  He grinned, rather sadistically, and shot me something that might have been a pitying look.  I guessed he thought I was attracted to Jasmine.  I didn’t know much about marriage customs amongst the Diddakoi, but if I was a cousin she was presumably off-limits even though it was pretty clear we weren’t actually related.  I felt a wave of loathing.  Jasmine was young enough to be my daughter.

“Our lord has commanded us to search everyone who enters his lands,” the knight said, in a tone that suggested he hoped we’d try to resist.  He raised his voice.  “Everyone out of the caravans.”

The Diddakoi obeyed, looking as pissed as I felt.  I gritted my teeth as we were herded away from the convoy and ordered to wait by the side of the road.  The knights leered at us as they started to poke their way through the caravans.  Something broke inside one of the lead caravans, the sound echoing in the air like a gunshot.  Jasmine’s fingers shaped themselves into a spellcasting pose, then stopped as she forced herself to relax.  I told myself it would all be over soon, that we’d resume our drive shortly.  It wasn’t very reassuring.

I leaned closer to Jasmine so I could whisper in her ear.  “What’re they looking for?”

Jasmine shrugged.  “Runaways, probably,” she said.  “The serfs are bound to the land, unable to leave without permission.  Their local lords never give it, so they run away.  The cities are supposed to capture and return runaways, but as long as they’re careful they don’t get caught.”

I shuddered.  My ancestors had had much the same problem.  I wondered if there was anyone in the city helping the serfs to run and hide.  It was possible, although unlikely.  Damansara would be easy to starve, if the warlord laid siege to the walls.  The city fathers might try to turn a blind eye to any runaways, but if the warlords came calling with an army … I cursed under my breath.  The runaways might keep wages down, too.  It was quite possible they’d find themselves locked out of the local guilds, ensuring they’d have problems finding work.  My ancestors had had that problem too.

The knights finished poking their way through the caravans and headed back to the front of the convoy.  I had the impression they hadn’t done a very good job, although it was hard to be sure.  They’d probably made certain they’d checked everywhere big enough to hide a grown man.  I frowned at the look on their faces as they walked up to us.  They looked dark with anticipation.  It wasn’t over yet.

“On your feet,” the leader ordered us.  “Now.”

I stood, keeping my eyes lowered.  I couldn’t understand why the Diddakoi were taking it so calmly, not even trying to put up a fight.  Jasmine wasn’t the only magic-user amongst them, surely.  The knights had had their fun … I tried not to grimace as they formed us up into a line, Jasmine at the front.  I knew what was coming … I knew what was coming, even as I hoped and prayed I was wrong. 

“Let’s see what you’re carrying,” the knight said, with a leer.  “Let’s see …”

I felt a surge of anger as the knight started to search Jasmine, hands wandering all over her body.  How dare he?  Jasmine stood still, but I could tell she was shaking with rage.  I’d been taught how to search prisoners, yet … it wasn’t about safety or security.  It was about naked sadism and power and … they wanted to do worse, much worse.  I knew the type far too well.  They weren’t going to stop until …

The pistol practically leapt into my hand.  I pointed it at the leader’s head.  “Step away from her!”

He laughed.  It wasn’t a nervous laugh.  I was pointing a gun at his head, my finger tightening on the trigger, and he genuinely thought it was funny.   It struck me, too late, that he honestly didn’t recognise the threat.  The flintlocks and muskets I’d seen in the city were handmade things, strikingly crude.  The pistol in my hand had come from another world.  He probably thought I was threatening him with a truncheon.

“Step away from her,” I repeated.  “Now!”

“I’ll teach you to threaten your betters,” the knight growled.  He tugged the whip from his belt.  “I think fifty lashes …”

He shoved Jasmine to one side.  I shot him, instinctively.  The shot was strikingly loud in the silence.  He staggered, then crumpled to the ground.  His companion gaped, unsure what had happened, then grabbed for his sword.  I shot him too, then turned to look for the third knight.  He turned and fled, running for the horses as fast as he could.  I guessed he wasn’t Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad, even though I supposed a hasty retreat was the best choice under the circumstances.   He’d just seen two men killed through what might as well have been magic.  Even if he knew what a firearm was, he would never have seen anything like mine before.  And putting some distance between us was his best chance of survival.

I hesitated, then shot him in the back.  He tumbled – I breathed a sigh of relief that the bullet had gone through his rear armour – and hit the ground.  I paced towards him, keeping my pistol pointed at his head.  He wasn’t dead, but – from the way blood was flowing out of the wound – it was just a matter of time.  I grimaced in disgust.  If he hadn’t been wearing armour, he might have survived long enough to get medical treatment.  The bullet hadn’t just punched through the armour.  It had rammed chips of metal through his body.  He was beyond help.

Jasmine stumbled to her feet.  “What have you done?”

I blinked at her.  “They were going to rape you!”

“I could have handled them,” Jasmine snapped.  Sparks darted around her fingertips.  “You didn’t have to kill them.”

“You could have zapped them into frogs or something,” I pointed out.  “Why … why did you even let them stop us?”

Jasmine looked pained.  “There are agreements,” she said.  “We’re not supposed to get involved in local politics.”

I scowled as I turned back to the dead knight.  The guards might not have been magicians, I supposed, but their master probably had magic-users under his command.  Maybe Jasmine could have taken them out, easily.  Their master would have sent others after the travellers and who knew where that would have ended.  I wondered, sourly, if I’d made a mistake.  The local warlord might be an asshole who made regular assholes look bland by comparison, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take care of his men.  I’d seen too many warlords in Afghanistan to feel otherwise.  The smart ones treated their men well.  The stupid ones rarely lasted long enough to make a mark.  And if this local warlord had lasted long enough to establish a dynasty …

The thought mocked me as I searched the bodies.  They weren’t carrying much, beyond small pouches of coins.  I poured them into my hands and studied them thoughtfully.  They were so rough and imprecise that it was impossible to determine what they were worth, not without a pair of scales and some dumb luck.  Or magic.  One of the knights had a dagger concealed in his sleeve.  Jasmine sniggered when she saw it.  I didn’t get the joke.

“What’s so funny?”  I turned the blade over and over in my hand.  It was very well made, certainly compared to the swords.  I had the feeling they would snap under the right – or rather the wrong – conditions.  “It’s just a dagger.” 

“That’s a virgin blade,” Jasmine explained, as I removed a miniature scabbard from the knight’s arm.  “Noblewomen carry them, in order to defend their virtue.  It’s very rare for a man to carry one.”

“Probably why he carried it,” I said.  I knew the value of a concealed weapon or two.  The dead knight might have been endlessly mocked by his comrades for carrying a lady’s weapon, but it might have saved his life.  Particularly, my thoughts added, if it was something he wouldn’t be expected to carry in the first place.  “He could stab someone who thought he was defenceless.”

The thought made me smile, which vanished when I looked at the knights.  They were walking slabs of muscle.  It was hard to believe they’d ever be helpless – or seen as helpless.  I’d seen tougher men in the army, but not many.  I was strong – I knew I was strong – but I was relieved I hadn’t had to trade punches with them.  I had a feeling I might have lost.

“We’ll have to bury them, then let the horses run off,” Grandfather Lembu said.  I tried not to glare at him.  He, not Jasmine, should have spoken to the knights.  “And we have to talk.”

Jasmine looked as if she wanted to say something, but he cut her off and looked me dead in the eye.  “You can’t stay.  Not now.”