Quincunx Ch. 01

Imagine a world like ours circling it's sun in 378 days, overhead filling the northern sky is a galaxy that is hurtling to a collision in less than a million years. On this planet magic is real for the gifted few while most live a medieval life with Kings, lords and freemen and an underclass of surfs and slaves.

There were five 'class's' of magic matching the five day week, with five flavours of magic and five ranks. The magic's were Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Void. The five ascending ranks are: Lesser Mage, Mage, Wizard, Greater Wizard and Great Wizard.

The five day week joins with four others to make a month, three months make a season and, you've guessed it, five seasons make the year with the three odd days being festival days. The first celebrating the turning of the year, the second the first day of Spring with the last day the final day of Harvest.

The five seasons correspond to Spring: the bursting forth of life. Summer: the long lazy days growing to maturity. Harvest: reaping of the fruits of your labour. Autumn: the dying season, leaves falling stems browning off. And Winter: the brief cold death of the year as it warms again into the new one.

Difference between mages and wizards is that the mages can use only one of the elemental magic's, with Lesser Mages being less powerful while Mages control one fully, Wizards command two with Greater Wizards usually commanding three or more rarely four with a Great wizard commanding all five.

Command of the earth magic was most common; most of those could develop a power of healing. Fire and Air were the next most common with the magic of the void being the rarest.

One
Taking the long way home

The morning was a fine one after last night's rain, the smell of pine and the spring blossom of the heather was on the breeze. I felt replete with my fine breakfast of cinnamon flavoured porridge with a dash of maple syrup.

All was right with my world as I stood and stretched to my full six foot still feeling the slight ache in my bones from the hard ground I'd slept on. This was my second solo journey and I'd had an enjoyable few days of complete freedom, a rare thing in my father's strict household.

I skimped on freshening up in the icy cold water; I could have a warm bath when I got home, luxuriate in it while my father stashed the fresh supplies away and mother retired to the kitchen to consult with the cook.

My horse was saddled and the donkey loaded with my tent and the goods I'd been to Bravermouth to buy. The panniers of Janaweed for my father and herbs and spices for mother. I intended to rest up on a comfortable chair and after that my own comfortable bed after my two day trek home.

I mounted and urged my nag forward, letting it pick its own pace. The ass brayed as the reins were pulled tight, dragging it reluctantly from the clump of ferns it was feeding on. I sat easily in the saddle as the horse ambled along; thinking about Webberli and the 'thank you' I might get from her for the beaded necklace that nestled in my pocket.

The trail before me was levelling out and round the corner of the still white capped peak above me laid my home, another four hours or so of easy riding. Already I could see the sheep below me in the high pastures feeding from the new growth of the spiky mountain grass and stunted sage bushes.

As I rounded the scree my pleasant daydreams were forgotten as I saw a Traveller's wagon pulled over some half a mile or so further down the trail. That would not please my father when he heard of it. He would soon have his men at arms up here to move them on before too many sheep disappeared.

I let my horse meander on, wondering if I should stop and retrieve my sword from the donkey. From this distance all I could see was a woman and a young boy fussing round one of the nags that drew their wagon.

As I approached the woman noticed my coming and stood to the side the wagon while the boy disappeared round the back making me wary and cautious enough to stop yards short.

"Greetings," I said as I flexed my legs in the stirrups and readied myself for any tricks.

"Our horse has gone lame," she announced, indicating one of its forelegs. "It was fine last night and showed no distress this morning when I hitched her."

She looked to be in her thirties, fair skinned and with light brown hair tucked under her headscarf, well fed and still attractive enough with a well-proportioned body, not typical of any Travellers I had seen before with their hand to mouth existence.

I steadied my mind and looked again at her with my magical sight. I could see the feint glow of her aurora; it had the signs of a healer with the power of a lesser mage, the scene before me getting more unusual as I took it in.

I looked at the Mare and saw the simple spell she had used to try and ease the swelling of the fetlock. The scene and its surrounds looked natural and harmless and I eased myself from the saddle to see if I could help.

A cursory examination showed that the horse had a loose shoe and had somehow gotten a stone lodged under it, probably picked it up when they set out, crossing the edge of the road. No wonder it was lame, no real Traveller would have missed something that obvious and my suspicions rose again.

"The horse needs resting and a blacksmith," I said standing. "There's a stone wedged in its hoof, you'll need to get it out and tomorrow you can take it to Wensdale. The smithy there will reshoe it for you."

"Wensdale?" she asked, "Where might that be?"

"Three miles back down this road and another four down the southerly road. The Smithy's a good man and will ask a fair price if you mention my name, I am Davor of Pike Manor."

I knelt again and drew out my dagger to see if I could free the stone without having to remove the shoe completely. The woman was holding the reins of the snickering animal as I eased its foot up, looking under its breast to observe my doings.

Without warning I felt a quick arm go round my throat and the point of a dagger pressed into my leather jerkin, its tip digging in my side.

"We want your horse," a young girlish voice hissed in my ear, my thoughts leapt to the young boy I had seen.

I rammed my elbow back and felt it connect with his midsection, knocking the air from him. My other hand dropped my dagger and arched back to clamp on his wrist and pull the dagger away from my ribs.

Feeling him sag backwards from my blow I released his wrist and twisted on my heels to land another blow to his jaw. As the boy fell backward I flung myself upon him, taking his throat in my hand whilst the other gripped and twisted his skinny wrist to loose the weapon.

"Get off her," the woman behind me shouted.

"Wha...."

As I turned to look I saw her swinging a large rock and felt it connect with the side of my head a split second later, dazing me and knocking me from the boy I had pinned to the ground.

As the blackness overtook me I heard her shout "Quickly Rash, go and get some rope...."

I slowly became aware of the lurching of the wagon, the salty taste of blood and the throbbing of my head. As I struggled to sit I found my hands and feet were bound and I was lying in a narrow cot in the semidarkness.

"Hey, untie me!"

But there came no reply, only the swaying of the wagon as it travelled the trail. The angle of the wagon indicated that I must have been out for a while as we climbed back up to the pass in the crook of the mountain.

I strained and struggled against the ropes that bound my arms behind me but they were fast enough to secure me despite my struggles. My legs were a different matter; whoever had bound them had left them just loose enough to let me work my legs free, though it took nearly half an hour to do so.

With my legs free I swung them round and over the side of the cot, almost trapping them in the chests that lay invisible in the gloom, sending myself tumbling against the door to the box. As I tried to untangle myself the door was thrown open and the light flooded in, half blinding me.

"He's getting free," the young voice of Rash shouted. "Give him some more potion."

"No," I heard the older woman say. "He's had enough for one day; we don't want to kill him with an overdose.

"Well we'll have to do something. If anyone comes along...." Her voice trailed off.

"Where's my little box?" she asked. "The one with the moon image carved in the lid."

"I don't know," Rash replied. "I think it was under your bunk."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked, as she clambered through the door and over the first chest to poke about under the curtained recess.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "But we need your horse. If you keep quiet we'll let you go in a few days."

She brought her hand out with a flourish. "Ah, here it is."

"What's that?" asked Rash.

"An enchanted slave collar," she replied, opening the box.

"It's controlled by this crystal," she said, fishing it out of the box and holding it up.

"Who are you?" I asked, struggling to get upright and catch a glimpse of it myself. My magic sight could see the glow of it but not the crystal itself.

"If you squeeze it," she continued, "it tightens the collar on his throat and he won't be able to shout out."

"Can I see?" asked Rash.

"Later," she said, popping it into the pocket of her dress. "I need to get the collar on him first, then we're safe."

She shuffled herself round to face me and opened the box again.

"Hold still!" she ordered as she removed the black leather collar.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"The less you know the better, for the moment," she replied, opening the lock with a small key.

She bent my head forward and slipped the collar round my neck.

"If you wander too far from the crystal the collar will choke you. Stay close to the wagon for your own safety," she warned me, dropping the key into her pocket alongside the crystal. "And don't think you can steal it, while you're wearing the collar the crystal and key will burn your hand if you attempt to touch them."

"Now, let's get you back on the bunk," she continued, grabbing the leather of my jerkin and pulling on it as I pushed with my knees to help her straighten me up and roll back onto the cot.

She disappeared back out the door, closing it and leaving me in the gloom of the caravan. In a few seconds I felt us begin to roll along the track again.

My situation it seemed had gone from bad to worse, from highborn to untouchable, and with the charmed collar about my neck I was powerless to right matters. The magic in the crystal was bright enough for it to be a strong spell, one that I had no means to fight against.

I lay there in the gloom, the collar chafing my neck and the muscles of my arms tormented by the rope binding them, feeling every bump and dip in the track through the thin straw mattress jogging my bladder. I vowed there would be a reckoning to pay when I got free, if and when they freed me.

Finally we stopped again, the grating sound of the wheels and the clip clop of the trail lost as we pulled onto softer ground.

"Hey, you there, I need to relieve myself!" I shouted.

I felt the gentle rocking of the carriage as they dismounted from the box up front and then the sunlight streaming in as the rear door opened. The still nameless woman came bustling up the steps.

"We're stopping for food and to rest the horses a while," she announced, making her way to me. "You need to remember not to stray too far."

She reached behind me and pulled on the rope forcing me to roll face down as she untied me. For a moment I contemplated trying to overpower her but she only loosened the ropes and backed off, before reaching into her pocket and holding the crystal up in her clenched fist.

I wriggled my arms free and sat up to face her.

"Miriamni, come help me with this," came the shout from the young boy outside.

She turned from me and made her way to the door and the steps. I followed on and walked past her up into the rocky gully where they'd stopped the caravan, I was going to test the limit of this collar. Miriamni had been convincingly unconcerned with me walking away, that didn't bode well.

I walked further up the gully, picking my way around the boulders till about fifty yards or so in I felt it start to tighten. I stopped and took a step back bringing my finger up automatically to ease it, Miriamni was right to have confidence; the magician was competent in his craft.

I walked back down aways, dodging behind the first large rock I saw as I felt the collar start to tighten to drop my pants and ease myself.

When I walked back I could see them both setting up the hay bags and water for the horses.

"Can you build a fire?" Miriamni asked.

"Yes of course," I replied.

"We can't let him wander round like that!" Rash exclaimed. "He's supposed to be a slave."

"What?" Miriamni turned to look back at Rash.

"His clothes," he explained. "The way he's dressed is much too grand for any slave I've seen. Don't we have something more suitable for his new station in life?"

"Nothing, I never thought to pack slave clothes."

"Well we'll have to think of something, we can't let him be seen in those."

He turned to me. "You, Davor or whatever your name is, back inside now."

I looked from him to Miriamni questioningly.

"Do as you're told!" Rash shouted at me.

I shrugged and walked back to the caravan, seething inside that a young boy should have such power over me. Inside I lay back on the cot, listening to them as they prepared a midday meal, their voices indistinct except for a word or two here and there.

The young boy was the master here I reasoned, and it seemed as though they were fleeing from someone or some situation in some haste, which explained the need to kidnap me and commandeer my horse. Whatever it was, it was my misfortune to have met them on the road and become entangled with their escapade.

After a time Miriamni brought me a meal of journey bread and some boiled stock fish, with coftea to wash it down. Whilst she was in the caravan she opened one of the trunks and rummaged through to draw out a petticoat which she took with her.

With the horses rested and food in our bellies we were on the way again. Our brief stop had taken us less than an hour and without the ropes to bind me I settled down to endure the bumpy ride once more.

I lay there, still pondering my fate as we proceeded onwards, the angle of the caravan telling me that we were branching up from the 'main' road to the seaport and continuing on the high road to the mountain pass on the other side of the valley.

Once up through the pass we pulled over into a wooded valley as dusk was falling. I took the chance and peeked through the rear door as I felt us slow and roll onto the softer soil. We were stopping at the 'Bandits Cave', cleared these two years ago by my father's men and the watch from Bravermouth.

Both Miriamni and Rash came through the coach door at the front, Rash with a length of cloth and a shank of thinner rope in his hand. As Miriamni lit the lamps Rash came to me.

"Strip your clothes off," he commanded me, laying the string and cloth down on one of the trunks.

"But...." I started to protest.

"Strip!" he commanded again. "Or Miriamni will use the crystal."

"Let her, why do I need to strip?" I demanded.

"Miri," she called behind her. "Come and deal with him."

I tensed my neck, remembering the tightening; it would be foolish to get choked, just to make a gesture of resistance. The look in his eye meant business; for one so fair in the face his stern eyes demanded obedience born of rank.

Reluctantly I obeyed. In other circumstances I'd be please to show off my body, toned and firm from the farm work, I'd charmed many a woman stood stripped to the waist and with my tight britches on.

I started by removing my jerkin and unbuttoning my shirt, dropping them on the bed as I sat and removed my boots and then unbuckled the belt before standing to remove my pants and long johns.

I watched Miriamni eyes widen as my knob was revealed, hanging five inches in its flaccid state as I brought my hands to cover it. Webberli had told me that it was the biggest in the town, at least a half a hand bigger than its nearest rival making her the envy of the girls in her circle.

I sat and pulled my feet from the legs of my pants, feeling flushed despite the cooling evening air, when Rash scooped the cloth he'd brought and thrust it out to me.

"Cover your loins with this," he ordered. "Then tie it round with the string."

I stood again and took the cloth. It was part of the hem of the petticoat I'd seen earlier, still damp from its soaking in the coftea grounds that gave it a dirty pale brown colour. I slid it between my legs noticing both getting an eyeful as I pulled it tight into my crotch.

I sat again to string it, leaving a little flap front and back to preserve my modesty. This was the apparel of field slaves. I'd seen the like on farmer Brettic's farm, on slaves harvesting the wheat fields and threshing it in the barn.

"Now we can safely let him outside," Rash declared, sitting on the trunk and giving me the once over.

"Then he can start the fire while I see to the horses," said Miriamni, turning to leave by the rear door.

I followed her out and she showed me where the kindling was kept and left me to it.

The mountain air was cool but not so cold as to chill me as I worked with enthusiasm to build a fire to warm myself by before the night air could turn yet colder still. I had the fire started and was building the fireplace when Rash came over with the caldron.

I watched him as he walked back. His gait was strange; he was taking small steps like he was afraid to open his legs. I stood and followed him to the water butt roped to the side of the wagon where he was ladling water into the pot for coftea.

"So we're going to Potiau, the Magicians domain," I commented.

He whirled round. "How do you know that?"

I moved past him and picked the ladle from the butt.

"It's the only place this road goes," I answered, bending my head to sip the water.

"Urrg, how long have you had this water?" I asked after I'd spat out what little I'd tasted. "It's gone stale."

"I thought that was the taste of the wooden barrel," chimed in Miriamni, joining us after picketing the horses.

"He knows where we're going," put in Rash in a panicked voice.

"It doesn't matter," said Miriamni calmly.

Turning to me she asked. "Do you know of fresh water round here?"

"Yes, I think there's a small stream with a pool up by the Bandit's Cave."

"Bandit's Cave!" Rash echoed getting more flustered.

"Yes," I addressed him. "But don't worry its safe now. They were all captured these two years gone."

"Then you can help me carry the barrel up there so we can get fresh," Miriamni declared, then turning to Rash. "See if you can salvage the meat in the cook pot and throw that stuff in the pot away. We'll be back with fresh water soon."

It was only a short walk up the valley to the cave mouth and the little pond that was fed by the stream that came tumbling down the rocky side. The air was still and calm with the sweet smell of the early blooms of the gorse, a pleasant place if not for the grisly skeletal remains of the slain soldiers and bandits.

We flushed the barrel in the pool first, swilling it round with fresh water before filling it with the sweet water spilling from the cliff side. Thankfully, the short walk up meant a short walk back with the weight of the now full water butt.

Rash was sitting in the bright moonlight by the fire, feeding it with twigs and dead branches of the pine trees brought down by the winter snows. He stood and turned to us when he heard us coming.

"Here, you can refill the cook pot from this," Miriamni told him as we eased it to the floor next to the fire. "Then we can see about making fresh coftea as well."