Chapter 236: First Blood
First Blood
"Ambush!" Marcus pushed Flora down from the driver's seat before tumbling off to the other side.
Summoning his shield, Martel ducked, hiding between the barrels in the cart. Fighting to contain his panic, Martel tried to think. They were trapped inside the alley, but he had a good position at the moment, mostly hidden. And he did not have to go into close quarters to deal some hurt.
Only problem was who or where to attack. The tall buildings on either side prevented moonlight from reaching them, and he could barely see anything. He might be able to set the cart blocking their escape on fire, but that would simply leave a burning obstacle, accomplishing nothing, as the arrows came from that direction; they could still shoot.
Martel tried to reach out and get a sense of the archers, hoping to burn their bow strings, but his magic struggled to locate them without sight and across the distance.
He felt a burst of magic released nearby. He panicked for a moment until he realised it had to be Flora. The darkness made it difficult to see, but he sensed what she had done. A wall of earth, some seven or eight feet tall, rose to protect them from one side, blocking out any more arrows from that direction.
To the other side, Marcus drew his sword and grabbed a lid from a barrel to use as a shield. Down the alley towards them came five or six assailants, wielding a variety of weapons. Realising the opportunity afforded by the long and narrow path, Martel called out, "Marcus! Stay left!"
The warrior did so without hesitation, planting his left shoulder against the wall of the building. Down the right side, Martel released a ray of fire. It struck the first brigand in the stomach, and as he fell to the ground, rolling around to put it out, the flames continued to strike a second target behind.
Marcus quickly advanced, and he stabbed the nearest bandit as he lay on the ground. Some of the dead man's comrades held their ground, preparing to fight. In response, Martel launched bolts of fire in swift succession; none of them hit, as he was afraid to strike Marcus, but seeing the magical fire on display yet again proved too much. Losing their nerve, the brigands retreated.
All of them catching their breath, the trio gathered at their cart, staying vigilant. "Think they'll be back?"
"I don't think they counted on mages. All the same, let's not afford them time to reconsider their strategy and return," Flora considered.
Martel looked at the shape of the earth wall ahead, faintly visible in the dark. "That might give us some trouble."
The earthmage rolled her eyes. "I'll deal with that. And with a bit more spellwork, I should be able to push the other wagon out of our way. Collect the body and let's be gone."
***
Once underway, with Marcus driving, Flora sat in the back of the cart looking at the body. "Could you provide me with a little bit of light," she asked of Martel.
His eyes darting in every direction, Martel summoned a weak flame. He turned his attention towards her as she examined the corpse. "What are you looking for?"
"Anything to shed light on the identity of our attackers." She took hold of the dead man's hand, noticing half a missing finger. Grabbing the knife from his belt, she sliced open his clothes to look at his neck and shoulders.
"What do you expect to find?"
"Often, gangs like those plentiful in Morcaster mark their skin with paint. No such luck here." She moved to place the dagger back in its sheath when she suddenly arrested her movement. Examining the hilt of the weapon, her expression grew pensive. "Curious."
"What is?"
She finally placed the knife back where she had taken it. "You see where the pommel says VII? This is the weapon of a former soldier from the seventh legion." Flora gave him a look. "We have our clue."
***
A quarter of an hour later, the cart rumbled into a small courtyard. A few guards received them, as did a short, bald man. Looking into the back of the wagon, seeing the body, he grinned at Flora. "I see you had a few obstacles."
The earthmage jumped down from the cart. "Nothing we couldn't handle."
Martel looked at the dead man with the awful wound on his chest, stabbed all the way through to his back. In a sense, Martel was complicit; his magic had made the man an easy target for Marcus. He felt eerie about it, almost guilty. Yet the brigand had attacked them, and given his skill as a warrior, Marcus probably would have killed him anyway. Trying to dull the nagging sting of guilt, the novice looked away.
"You got the full shipment through?" The bald man eyed the barrels.
"Of course."
Martel climbed down as well, and so did Marcus. Money was handed over, the two mages collected their staves from the bottom of the cart, and they left.
"Let's keep our eyes open," Flora suggested, "and we'll follow the kid home." She glanced at Marcus as she said this, to which he nodded. Looking at Martel, she continued, "Got time tomorrow morning?"
The novice quickly thought about his schedule. He only had apothecary work right now, second bell on Glundays. "Once third bell rings, I do. Why?"
"Something feels wrong. It looks like we were attacked by a small, independent band, probably former legionaries. Morcaster is lousy with them."
Martel could vouch for that.
"On the other hand… They knew this shipment was valuable, the day it would arrive, and our route. No small gang of half-handed veterans have that kind of information," Flora speculated.
"And if they knew all of this, they surely also knew it belonged to Lord Ironside," Marcus added. "Hard to imagine they'd risk the wrath of one of the Nine Lords without the backing of another."
"At the same time, they can't have known about our involvement specifically," the earthmage continued. "Else they would have worn gold."
"So, what do we do?" Martel asked.
"Tomorrow morning, Marcus and I will do some gentle asking around. You join us when you can, and we'll switch to less gentle asking."
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